


Tracker

by BecTec



Category: TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Werewolves of London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecTec/pseuds/BecTec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You think it’ll take weeks to find him?” Puppy dog eyes - big, blue and begging despite the dark. Tracker didn’t say anything, just pulled her subdued husband into her side -half hugging him - and didn't stop walking. <br/>Don is missing, luckily Mikey married a bloodhound. <br/>(This might be the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She was back in New York City again. The jungle of concrete and steel was not her element. She had rented a small hotel room on Church St. 

Spread out on the floor were pictures, newspaper clippings and, most importantly, a composition notebook densely packed with mad scribblings. 

There was something here, she could smell it. Most of the clippings and photos were related to some criminal activity. Illegal kidnapping, fighting rings of humans or animals, or large poaching and animal smuggling groups. That was the reason she had chosen to stay right outside Chinatown. She was certain this time. Over four years this was the closest she could remember getting to her brother. 

She pulled the pile of photographs across the carpet, spreading them out like a street magician asking a sucker to pick a card. From the middle portion, she pulled one in particular and stared at it. A boy in partial profile running past the camera with a host of other children and a mob of dogs. Nothing but his face was in focus as the riot of color passed behind him. His hair was long for a boy’s, brown with honey streaks in a ponytail to his shoulder blades. At 13 her brother had been a lanky kid romping around the backwoods of New Mexico with piles of cousins. She flipped it over and read the back. Her mother’s handwriting:

Joshawa, 13 

Then Tracker’s somewhat less flowing script describing the place time and description in detail with a string of numbers in columns for ease of organizing. This photo was the one she seemed to need to take with her on most missions even though there were photo’s of him later in life. Up to age 15, right up till the fire. His hair had started darkening, now it would probably be the same dull nearly charcoal brown she sported. 

She stuck it into the inside lining of her tan duffle coat. Three o’clock was easing up on her. There wasn't really any reason for her to stay any longer. Not when she could be out looking. Tracker patted herself down, checking all the important kit was in place. Brass knuckles in the pockets of her cargo pants, chunky overly-thick knife in a scabbard against her spine. The pistols were small, and with the bulky coat over them, no one could see the holsters under her arms. She stepped out into the hotel hall and locked the door behind her. Forgot the phone 

She grumbled and reopened the door grabbing the flip phone she had purchased at a gas station to call Mac. Climbing down the dirty-gray carpeted stairs she made her way to street level. 

New York was busy and crowded and horrible. She hated every square inch of the place. Tracker had been all over the world. The first move when her entire surviving family, cousins, aunts, and uncles, picked up and skipped across the pond to London from New Mexico. 

She had broken off not long after that, working odd jobs everywhere to pay for tickets back to America. Following a year old trail down to South America, working her way through poachers, of humans and animals. Then to China and from there to Japan. That lead her back to New York for the second time in her life. Her best lead for four years of hard work and it had come about almost by accident. One of the high-level Yakuza bosses she had been keeping an eye on mentioned his hobby of dog fighting in New York and the recent purchase of a “burned up mutt.” Something seemed off about the way he spoke. 

So, she did what she was best at and followed up. Sneaking into his office building and going through every hidden paper record, downloading every file or email on his computer. A week later, when she was sorting through it all, she struck gold. An email three months old had one file attached. Grainy dark and blurry, it was the picture of a heavily burned man tied face down on a stone floor. Long dark brown hair pooled around him, along with a not insignificant amount of blood. She couldn't see his face, just the pocketing burn marks on his arms and legs. But his honey streaks had stayed. She just knew. It wasn't enough to send home for an army of siblings and cousins but she knew who it was.

Her father ran a tight household and nothing short of a clear photo of his face would let her call on the sheer numbers her family could supply. And if she was wrong like the first two times? She thought back to Markus, her brother’s partner before the fire and how she had called him across the world on a hunch only to leave him with nothing, twice. Stopped him from moving on how he should, if her family was right. If Doc was dead. 

She shook her head clear. Being surrounded by so many people screwed with her head. It made her more morbid than she normally was, more nostalgic as well. She hadn't been home in years. The big house in London filled to bursting with cousins and family far away in blood but close in spirit from years of living together. Not for her the crowded high rises. She should be celebrating. Three o’clock was the soonest the scum that ran the New York dog rings would start taking bets. She had brought two hundred twenty-seven dollars in cash. Hoping that would be enough to get her through the front door. It was all that was left of her time in Brazil. 

The ring was at the north docks warehouses. She walked through Chinatown, listening to the mix of languages. She had picked up some Mandarin and a smattering of Wu but the only eastern language she could converse in was Japanese. The warehouse she had been given directions to by some, low-level scum bag in a gang called the periwinkle dragons, or something, was a bit off the water, enough that it could have an illegally dug basement just like he said. The was a man standing outside the door in a black hoodie. She had come too soon. It didn’t seem like anyone else was showing up to place early bets.

Long strides took her around the docks out of his line of sight. She picked the lock on the door of the weighhouse behind that one and slipped inside. It was the 30th of October so the sun should be low enough by 5:40. She waited. Watching through the high window of her warehouse as people began trickling in. 

At one point she thought she saw a strange shadow following one of the men as he walked through the docks but it disappeared before he reached the door. She shook her head and checked the time. 5:30. She was tired of waiting. The only sign that seemed needed at the door was a quick flash of cash to show you were there to bet and not just for the spectacle. She slid the door man a 20 as she had seen some other scumbags do and he seemed to accept it as a not-in-the-gang-fee. Inside was crowded but not uncomfortable yet. People sat in folding chairs around a huge metal pit. Above her, it seemed, were the premier seats. A long balcony with a few gentlemen scumbags wearing suits to tight for them. Dog fighting normally wasn’t this big an event. She didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or not. 

Sundown hit like a bag of bricks. A cheer going up from the crowd as the announcer took the stage over the pit to take bets. Two dogs, huge things with teeth for miles were set on each other and blood splattered the mettle pit. They hauled the surviving one up and hosed it off as the announcer dished out winnings and got the crowd riled up for what he was calling the pre-show. They were gearing up for something the announcer was calling a “Monster mosh.”

She edged along the wall and slipped through a back door. A long hallway ran through the back wall of the warehouse. Kennels along the wall filled with animals. Mostly dogs but a few other more exotic creatures. One seemed to be an alligator crammed into a cage much too small for it. The hall ended in a staircase that led down into complete darkness. She pulled a penny light out of her jacket pocket and descended. The sounds from above grew distant as she reached the bottom. Above her, someone opened the door and she could make out the scream of crowds and a cacophony of barking dogs before the door slammed shut and muffled the sound again. It must be sound proofed, she reasoned. 

Probably to stop whatever was in here from attracting attention. The penny light swept around the below-ground hallway. It stretched farther than the warehouse it sat on and either side had doors. Thick steel doors. Tracker had seen the inside of a few prisons this didn’t look anything like one. This place looked like a dungeon. She was in deep this time. The two pistols under her jacket felt heavier as she considered what would happen if someone found her down here. Fighting her way out was not really an option. One of the doors had a humongous raggedy gap through it as if some furious animal had torn it apart and the keepers had reinforced it with steel beams. She tried to look through it, hauling herself up to level. It was completely dark but she thought there was a huge shape lurking in the shadows. 

She put her finger over the penny light and slowly moved it till a tiny beam of light illuminated the cell. It was a monster, lying on its back, it looked like standing would stretch 9 ft tall. Long tendrils of green plant material wavered. Was it asleep? A huge eye opened followed by a beak-like mouth inches from her face. Filled with teeth that dug into the metal of the door scraping against the metal beams holding it inside. She let out a startled squawk and fell to the floor. The thing continued to shriek and scratch the mettle. 

“Hey, hey” She cooed. “Calm down now. “Let's not make a racket.”   
“Little late for that.” Said a voice through the door to her right. There was a person here. That was distressing, but promising. 

“Hey,” She said through the mettle. “Names’ Tracker.”  
“Raphael” He answered. “What the shell are you doing down here kid?”  
“Looking for my brother, hold on I'll get you out.”

The man on the other side snorted as Tracker rummaged through the lockpicks.   
“You sound like just some squirt. Get out of here kid ‘for they find ya.” 

The click of the mechanism and the door swung open. Standing against the wall with chains around his neck and arms was the single strangest man Tracker had ever seen. He was short and green and bald he almost looked-

“You're a turtle?” She asked.  
“You always this observant kid? Or is it just my lucky day?  
“Ok, so you're also an ass. Got it. Hold this.”   
She handed the man-turtle-creature a railroad spike and had him hold it against one of the links. After a few good whacks, the thing seemed completely untouched. 

“Gotta say impressed kid where’d ya get such a delicate touch?”   
“Lai King training center in Hong Kong.” A couple more good whacks accomplished nothing.   
“Shell, give me that.” He swiped the hammer out of her hands and with one motion drove the spike through the chain and a few inches into the stone below.   
“Eh, good enough,” he said wrapping the dangling portion of chain around his forearm. “Don ’ell get the rest after we get out of here.”

“Wait, I have to find my brother. There's no way you can sneak out without setting off the alarm.”  
“Oh really?” He asked twirling the hammer in one hand in a dangerous looking, very weapon-like grip. “Who said anything about sneaking out?”

“Listen I got you out, so you owe me. Help me find him and then we cause enough chaos to get out, not before.” She hadn't been meaning to but as she spoke she was stepping forward, running the buff, but shorter, man-turtle against the wall. 

“All right, all right. Hurry up. My friend ‘e'll be coming for me and he's not too great at keeping quiet.   
“Then we better get started.” 

The sounds of barking and cheering increased in volume as the door to the stage area opened. Footsteps along the stairs sent a tingle of anticipation up Tracker’s spine. Goosebumps pressed against the hard plastic of her knife sheath. They moved out of Raphael's cell and closed the door without a sound. He was remarkably good at moving without jangling the chains on him, or even making foot falls. In fact, he was damn near graceful. They walked down the long hallway side by side till Tracker found what she had been searching for. 

She held up one finger and sniffed the air. Moved to one of the doors and knocked lightly twice. A few seconds later and answering knock of two quick strikes sounded. 

“Doc?” She whispered.

The silence spread out as she fumbled with her lock pick set. There was a click and a second later the door creaked open.

“Who? Are you?” A man about 20 years old with shaggy taupe hair down his back sat as far towards the door as chains would permit. 

“It's me Doc. Mara.”  
“Mara! Why? You have to run they-” The turtle Raphael clamped a hand over his mouth before his voice could get any louder. 

“Don’t worry Doc he’s a friend. We're getting you out of this place.” 

Her brother nodded to the large terrapin. Raphael dropped his hand. 

“How did you find me?” He whispered as they set to work on the chains. 

“It took a while. Four years.” Clang, as the first one broke.”I’ll tell you everything once we're out.” Clang! Went the second. 

“Mac?” 

She paused and looked up at her big brother. “He's alive, The only one besides me that never gave up that you might still be-”

The cheering grew suddenly louder as the door up top opened again. The three prospective escapees stood stalk silent as the handlers wrangled the next victim out of its cage. 

There was a sound like a lion ate a motorboat and got stuck in a wood chipper.  
Someone screamed. 

“Get it! hurry up and get it!” An inhuman crashing sound like a sack of wet flower falling down stairs, followed by a lot of human footsteps. 

“Ok, times up we gotta go,” Raphel said hauling Doc to his feet. Her brother looked like a scarecrow that had been ripped to shreds and stitched together over and over. He staggered up and took a few steps forward before tripping over his bandaged legs. She caught him, looping his arm over her shoulder and they stumbled out after Raphael.

Far above them, the announcer was riling up the crowd.   
“Our main event is coming up gentlemen. In just a few moments we're gonna bring out the true spectacle of the year. New York style Monster Mosh.” 

Turning the corner they saw the source of the ruckus. A dozen men dressed in painful clashing colors were chasing after the biggest alligator Tracker had ever seen. It had freed itself of the chains and was creeping down the hallway with incredible speed. 

“Why are we running toward that!” Doc yelled as they ran up the hallway toward the growling mass of scales. Behind the alligator was a crowd of punks with those dumb fuchsia dragons plastered all over. Tracked fumbled with her holster. Only one hand free the other one dragging Doc. She managed to pull out a pistol and attempted to chamber a round without dropping it or shooting her brother. 

Raphael broke from their little group, sprinting ahead into the mass of bodies clogging the corridor.

“Sorry about this big guy.” She heard Raph say as he vaulted over the alligator, landing on its snout and wrapping a bit of chain around it before hurling it toward the mod of gang members scrambling to get out of the way. 

“Wow, Where’d you find him?” Doc asked as they ran through the chaos Raphael left in his wake.

“I got your monster mash right here! And its name is Casey Jones!” Someone screamed into the announcer's microphone as they ran up the stairs. 

“Casey!” The turtle-man yelled and put on a burst of speed that left the two trailers in the dust. 

“We're never gonna get out through that!” Doc yelled as they turned through door, and saw their turtle friend and a guy wearing a hockey mask fighting off waves of gang members with sports equipment. They were impressively holding their own for now but soon sheer numbers would do them in. 

“I have an idea,” Tracker said. “Stay here.” She set her brother down in a corner hopefully away from the worst of everything and bolted back down the stairs. 

“Hey! Bird-weed-snake-thing.” She said to the door she had first looked through. A screech answered her. “I was trying for stealth, but I believe that option has flown.” She pulled a hunk of white mush in a plastic baggy out of her sleeve along with a long black thread and a lighter- jammed the whole thing into the lock and lit it. 

“Move!” She screamed as she swept past grabbing Doc by his tattered shirt. The floor gave a little shutter and a scream like a thousand nails on the world's biggest chalkboard echoed around the warehouse. Vines wriggled up the stairs behind them. And the most enormous gardening disaster in the world, broke out from behind as they ran.

“You let it out?” Doc screamed as they drove through the furry. Raphael and his masked friend seemed to understand the situation. They were likewise attempting to wade toward the exit, as vines wiped around the confined space picking up guests and sniping into them with its bird-like toothed maw. 

They limped through the chaos; no one paying them much thought. The other two in the center seemed to be drawing the mob’s anger. Hauling themselves through the warehouse door Tracker had snuck through half an hour earlier, Doc twisted his head around to look for the other member of their rescue party. 

“We have to help them,” He said as they were knocked out of the doorway by fleeing gang members. 

“No, we don’t.” Tracker grunted dragging them further from the carnage.   
“They’ll be killed Mara. Give me your pistol.” He held out the hand that wasn’t looped around Tracker for support. 

“Right... You can’t fight. Can you even change right now?” She asked.   
Doc looked down at his hand for a moment and shook his head. 

“Fine, take this.” She handed him one pistol and an extra magazine. “And don't die. I invested too much time for you to die before Mac gets to see your scrawny ass.” She pulled him, hugged to her chest, a relative distance from the warehouse and set him down against a brick wall.

He pulled her close for a moment before slumping to the ground. “Thank you, Mara.”

“Anytime Bro. Be right back.” She squeezed his shoulder before surrendering to the change. Letting it morph her bones and pull her muscles, she halted it at the balanced halfway point. Now covered in short brown fur and armed with claws the length of her human fingers, she toar back through the crowd. 

 

She broke through the wall of bodies at the entrance and met up with the two going the other way, or trying to. The hockey-masked guy had a tentacle around his leg. Raphel was hacking at it with her hammer as the other kept thugs off his back with a bat. Tracker took down one closing in from his blind side and shot into the tentacle a few times till it released its hold on the masked human. 

“What're you doin’ kid? Get the shell outta here!”   
“Who's the hairy girl?” The masked guy asked clubbing a gang member who had gotten too close.   
“An idiot,” Raph answered throwing the hammer, knocking another one down.

She fired a few more shots.  
“My brother wouldn't let me leave you. He’s- “ A vine whipped around her stomach and squeezed like a vice, flipping her off her feet and into the concrete. The pressure lifted as Raph wailed on it with a hockey stick. 

“A big softy.” She wheezed, getting to her feet covered in green plant goo.

“Why? we’re doing fine.” The man she was beginning to call masked idiot in her head shot back, bashing another thug over the skull with a bat. The bird-snake-weed thing was mostly on the other side now, leaving a pile of unfortunately conscious and angry gang members between them and the door. Raph double kicked two to the ground but more piled up on him, dragging him into a one-on-one. 

Tracker was almost out of her second magazine when a path opened. Like the red sea parting, gang punks flew to the left and right. Two more human sized turtles plowed through the crowd. 

“Raph!” One yelled. He was slightly taller than Raphel, swinging twin swords so fast they seemed like silver streaks. Behind his blue bandana, his eyes were solid white. The other had a matching orange bandana and was twirling nunchucks everywhere, over his head and into other people’s. 

“Ha! Leo what took ya so long bro?”  
“Numbskull.” The blue one shouted back, voice filled with relief and affection. 

They kept the path open long enough for everyone in the little band to get out the door. As soon as they were clear Tracker bounded off, swept her lanky brother onto her back in a fireman’s carry, and ran. 

A van the size of a subway car pulled to a screeching halt beside them. A door on the side flew open and a voice from inside called “Get in!” 

She tossed Doc inside and hauled herself up after him. 

They drove over a few chain link fences and down roads not designed for something this big. Tracker gripped one arm around her brother and the other on the nearest steady thing she could find. It just happened to be Raphael's Shell. 

The monster of a car twisted down the streets of New York without causing much more than a few honks. Tracker would have been impressed with the skill if she wasn't so terrified and exhausted. Just when she thought she had gotten used to the terrapins’ pace they turned down a dead end street with a building at one end. The driver did not seem to be slowing down. Seconds before they hit the wall she screamed. The building’s interior wall lifted up and, still screaming, they plummeted down what looked like a subway tunnel. 

“What?” Tracker shook her shaggy head.  
“Hidden entrance, cool right?” The drive answered.   
“We did it.” She said pushing herself up. Not the best idea in a moving vehicle. The blue banded turtle caught her before she smashed them both into the floor. 

“Who exactly are you?” He asked putting her back on her feet. She stood over her brother and really looked around the huge car. A jumble of monitors and other tech covered the walls. Raphel was sitting in one of the seats and glaring from screen to screen. 

The orange banded turtle was sitting across from them staring intently at her. She couldn't see the driver from where she was standing but the ‘masked idiot’ was sitting across from him agents the far wall. His hockey mask pulled up to show his face and missing teeth. 

“Tracker. My names Tracker. This is my brother Doc.” She put a hand on her brother’s shoulder. God he was tall now, nearly coming up to her chest seated. She could feel his bones under his skin, not a hint of muscle or fat to hide them. She had to call everyone, she had to call Mac. 

“Yo girl you're like a dog, dog.” The orange banded turtle said poking at her fairly furry chest. 

The blue banded one thwap him over the head and he fell back into his seat rubbing it. 

“Jeez Leo, lay off.”  
“My name is Leonardo, the bozo who is supposed to be navigating is Michelangelo.”

“Yo,” He said waving at them. 

“You already met Raphael. And Donatello is driving.” 

“If you wouldn't mind explaining your physiology I have quite a few questions when we get back to the lair.” Said the voice from the front. 

“The Lair? Where are we going?” Doc asked hauling himself and limping toward Raphael. He peeked over the shorter man’s shoulder. 

“Home." The one named Leonardo answered. “I do have a few questions before we get there. For instance, how did you end up in a Purple Dragon fighting ring?” 

“It’s a long story,” Doc answered still looking away.

Only then did Tracker really feel the gap. She had worked so hard for so long and everything was ok now but it wasn't, not really. She had known that not everything would go back to the way it was before. If she ever went back to New Mexico all she would find of the old home would be a pile of ash. Not everything could be fixed but-

She reached out and grabbed her brother’s arm.

“We out of the woods yet?” She asked.   
“What? Oh.” He laughed and tousled her hair. “Don't get cocky kid.” That seemed to be all he wanted to say for the time being so she decided to start, not at the beginning but near enough to get the point across. 

“Three years ago I ran across some information that my brother here, Doc, might have still been alive. My family was, less than convinced so I left to find him myself. It took a while but eventually I tracked him here. I snuck in and found the cell block where I met your- Raphel. We found Doc and tried to sneak out when that masked guy broke in swinging. We were way outnumbered so I let lose that weed-thing and then you guys showed up.

“Succinct” Commented driver Donatello.

“Three years?” Raphael asked looking away from the monitors for the first time during the ride.

“Four total.” She said. Her brother was slumped against the wall again, to exhausted to talk. She rested a hand on his shoulder again, feeling much the same herself. “It was a report of human-animal hybrid experimentation. My father thought it was coincidence they started so soon after- our disaster.” 

“You mean your mutation?” Leo said. “Don is working on a retro-mutagen. He might be able to get you back to normal.”   
“Mutated?” She looked to Doc who just shrugged. “I can get back to human whenever I want. Look.” She had to focus. It was always hard to shift to human with adrenalin still in your system. The body wanted to go the other way, like jumping in a cold river and then trying to swim upstream. She managed to get everything back to its place after a few deep breaths. 

“Leo?” Donatello asked from the driver’s seat. “You should tell me if something interesting is happening.”  
“You can change to human?” Leonardo said.

“Can you not? I figured you were wereturtles or something I had never heard of.”

“No, we're mutated it’s-”

The humongous car began to slow and Tracker stumbled reflexively grabbed Michelangelo’s shell to hold herself upright. Her shoes failed to grip the metal floor and she fell into his lap.   
“Agh! Sorry.” She twisted and flopped out of his arms like a beached fish, thoroughly embarrassed.   
“Hey, you're even cuter as a nonwolf-chick.” He chuckled. 

“Looks like we're here, we can continue after we get everyone bandaged.” They disembarked and she finally got a good look at the driver. He was the tallest of the turtle’s with a purple mask around his eyes, strands of it hanging long down his back. What an odd pack. She wondered how many lived down here, and if there was more than just the one masked human.

 

The turtles and their now unmasked friend vaulted over gap between the car and what looked like an abandoned subway station. Doc was still moving slow, Tracker under one arm practically pulling him along. The turtle farthest behind turned to look at them. He was the orange banded one she had fallen onto, called Michelangelo. Tracker was heaving her brother out of the car when Michelangelo began to run back towards them. He sprung over her head between the gap of the door and her face and landed neatly behind them. 

“Mind if I lend a hand?” He asked. Without waiting he snatched Doc up in a bridal carry and took off, easily catching up with his brothers. Tracker stood for a moment in surprise and bounded after. 

Raphael sat at a large wooden table with a scowl on his face. Donatello in a chair next to him tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he bandaged minor cuts and bruises.

“And how did you get all banged up when Casey didn’t get scratched?” Leonardo lectured. The only human in the room perking up from his seat on the kitchen counter when he heard his name.   
“Not his fault he's delicate,” Casey said taking a swig of beer and swinging his feet up to rest on the kitchen island.

“Here’s your next patient Dr. Donnie.” Michelangelo said setting Doc down carefully on the seat next to Raph. Tracker tapped the human Casey on the shoulder.   
“Think I could get one of those?” She asked pointing to his beer. 

“Sure.” He said swinging down from the counter. “Hey! Raphy-boy pass the dog girl a beer.” A can came sailing at her head and she caught it popping the top and chugging. It tasted like sour horse urine but beer was beer. She wasn’t coming back to America till she was 21, and never New York. 

“Mara!” Doc exclaimed from where Dr. Donnie was tending to him.  
“Please don’t move when I'm stitching.” The turtle said and pulled him back down into his seat. She almost laughed at her brother unfazed by being stitched up sans anesthetic but squirming and so opposed to the idea of her having a beer.

“I’m 18 now big brother, been drinking for years.”  
“I suppose you're all grown up now.” He smiled at her. “I wasn’t sure…” He trailed off and she understood. The orange banded turtle rummaging through the fridge didn’t seem to.

“Wasn’t sure what?” He asked pulling out a bucket of cheese and a pan. Tracker did not want to know where this culinary mess was going. 

As the turtle doctor worked she examined her brother. He must be used to treating wounds with no anesthetic. He was more stitches than skin. The raggedy white shirts he was wearing had been cut off revealing bruises, blisters, and cuts. He had a lot of burn scars. She knew from experience those would never go away. If she had to guess most of them came from him burning deep cuts to keep out infection. Donatello poured a bottle of something over a particularly deep puncture. It made Doc suck on his teeth. The turtle dried it off and began wrapping clean white cloth around his back. 

“Can I help?” She asked standing behind, useless as a stranger tended to her kin. 

“Sure, sit down across from him.” He said, then to Doc added. “If you want to put your leg up on her knee I'll see about that ankle.”

Donatello asked questions and probed at the injury. Doc explained that he was forced to fight the week before, with some guy and his dogs. The cuts were mainly bites but the break was from being thrown across the floor and landing wrong. They had over counter painkillers and heat/cold packs. Tracker wouldn't have had any of this stuff or the know how. Looking back she was glad she had gone back for the red banded turtle Raphael and the idiot in a hockey mask. They would just be hiding at her shitty hotel waiting for everything to blow over before hitting the ER. 

 

“There You’re all done but you should take it easy for a while, some of these old injuries never healed right. It looks like this ankle broke before and that's why it was so easy to injure. It will take a longer time. As soon as you can you should see a real doctor.” Donatello said getting up and running a glass of water for him. 

“Thank you. Trust me, I know. There wasn’t much I could split it with.”

“Let's see about you now Miss.” The purple banded Doctor said turning to Tracker. 

“What? I’m fine.”   
“From the way you were walking you are not. Lift up your shirt please.”

She debated for a moment. It was never a good idea to show wounds but he seemed to want her healthy, it was low risk. 

She pulled up the front till the fabric was just under her bra. Luckily there was enough fabric to hang down and cover her back. A winding red mark covered her stomach where the vine had gripped her and ripped her off her feet. 

“I have some cream that should help. Any other injuries?” 

“No, this should fade in a few days. But thanks.” She said taking the proffered bottle. 

“My sons.” A voice spoke behind her. Deep, with the Japanese accent of an old man. She jumped up, startled by the stranger's voice and had her pistol out and aimed before she really thought about it. In a split second her arm was bent behind her back and her grip on the gun became painful. Her brother rose out of his chair wincing at his leg. Donnie put a hand on his arm trying to push him back down but he didn’t budge. 

“And who are these guests you have brought into our home?” The man behind her asked. Something felt off about his hands. They didn't feel like the three fingers of the turtles but also definitely not human.

“They're friends, Master Splinter. The girl helped Raph escape and the boy is her older brother who was captured in that forced fighting ring.” 

“Truely? And what is your name child?” He asked still not releasing her from his expert hold. She couldn't even wiggle much. This guy was unbelievable, he had moved too fast for her to get a look at him. But he didn’t seem hostile, just cautious. Tracker could appreciate that.

“Tracker sir.” She answered, respectfully as she could manage from her position. 

He released her from the hold. “Welcome to our home then Mis. Tracker. Thank you for helping my son but perhaps you should not be so hasty to draw a weapon in the future.” She turned around setting her gun on the table beside her. This ‘master’ Splinter who had her in an arm lock in under a second was an enormous rat wearing a purple Japanese robe. She paused for a moment. Rat-kind weren't rare just shy. Railey seen, she had only met one before. Aside from the fur, snout, and tail, he looked like a kindly old man. So this was their pack-leader?

She hated New York, rats and turtles and gangs with dumb tattoos. She needed to find a phone to get Mac on a plain with some money. Then they could figure out how to get Doc home. 

“Our apologies Sir.” Her brother replied, already falling into his eldest-speaker role. That was going to take some getting used to. Like having a mini father following her around speaking for their two-person pack. Tracker edged around next to her older brother and help him stand with his bad leg. He wasn’t going to sit in front of a strange Alpha no matter how bad his ankle was. A few years in a death arena wasn’t going to erase 15 years of Nana’s manners being drilled into him. She shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. They were talking, reciting his last few days and the escape. Raph cut in a few times with the story of his capture last night. 

The masked idiot, who Tracker was beginning to suspect was named Casey Jones and who liked to speak in the third person, and Raphael had been fighting the fusha dragons. They had knocked Raph unconscious with some gas and beat the shit out of Jones. He managed to follow them toward the docs and called the other turtles right before kicking down the door and began swinging. 

The rat followed along with the three stories as the three boys piled interjections and explanations onto each other. When it was all done he nodded and to the two strangers standing in his kitchen and said “You will stay here for the night. In the morning we will have much more to discuss.”

“You don’t need to house us.” She risked an upward glance at Doc as he shot off his mouth. “Your family had been more than kind, but we don’t need to intrude any longer than necessary.” She willed him to stop being so thick.That wasn’t an offer of hospitality. That was him ordering them to stay so he could make sure they wouldn’t talk. Not that she had plans too but she knew how these things went. He would split them up into separate rooms and scare them into swearing to secrecy. She doubted he would outright kill them unless they refused. 

“It is not wise to surface before the gangs have left the streets. Leonardo, make our guests a place.” 

“They can sleep in my room Sensei.” 

“That is wise Leonardo, I do not think your brothers have suitable space for guests. Before you sleep I wish to have your word. We live here in secret and though you have saved my son we are now at your mercy.”

“We will tell no one of your home. You have my word.” Her brother answered pressing a hand to his chest. The rat looked to her then, for a moment. She looked up at Doc who nodded. 

“Ya, Mine too.” 

That did not go the way she was expecting. Leonardo was gone, probably setting up his room to accommodate them. 

“Ah man! We missed Trogdor the Barbarian.” Michelangelo said. He had finished frying what looked like balls of battered cheese and was now eating them out of the pot. Raph thwacked him over the head just as Leonardo had. All that brain trauma went a good way to explaining his strange behavior.   
“You have a TV and the tapes in your room, Mikey!”   
“Ya but it’s not the same.”

Leonardo returned and motioned for them to follow. She helped her exhausted brother to his temporary sleeping space and set him down on a low Japanese style bed. It looked more padded than a futon but not by much. The turtle had piled pillows on so Doc could elevate his leg and keep the ice on it. 

“Thank you.” She said to the turtle-man before closing the door in his face. 

“I hate to get his bed dirty but there’s no way I can take a bath,” Doc said as she helped him lay down. “Just too tired. All that adrenaline. Ehn,” He winced as she bumped his leg. 

“Sorry.”  
“Don’t be.”

“What’s the plan Doc? Wait until they're asleep and sneak out? I don’t know if we can get past them honestly. We should swipe a phone and send an SOS. I think I know where we are by cross streets.”   
His eyes were drifting closed and she could see the bunched up formality leak off him. “You always did expect the worst. Trust them Mara they're good people.” He said before his breathing evened and he fell asleep. She sat next to him for a few minutes. A thick quilt with a pillow and blanket was set up as a second bed next to her brother’s. Tracker was tempted to curl up on it and let herself shift totally so she could heal. 

“Good people.” She snorted under her breath. She had been all over the world, nearly every corner and she had not found one person who was truly good, save her brother. He had been torn to ribbons his pain used for someone’s entertainment. She suspected that was how all the good people had gone extinct, long ago. 

She would just have to make their escape plan with out him then. Getting a phone would be a lot easier than trying to leave the city being hunted by gangs and turtles. Father would come if she could prove she had Doc this time. Between him and Mac they might not need the rest of the pack. She would tell them to come anyway. Tracker considered no kill as good as overkill. 

Another option occurred to her. She could contact Mac and her cousins directly, without father knowing. She honestly didn’t want these strange creatures dead. It would be easier to disappear without father watching her. He would want her to come home for good. If she could somehow vanish after the daring rescue she could go, somewhere, alone. 

Doc would be happy moving from one prison to another but she never could. Eventually, the two boys might feel the same. Mac and Doc might want to leave, they could join her and form another pack. Just not back to New Mexico she hoped. 

She blinked trying to force her brain to think shorter term. 

She couldn't fall asleep just yet. Too many bad questions were kicking around in her head. She got up and snuck out. Quietly clicking the door behind her. Hopefuly Doc would sleep dreamless, for a while, before the nightmares kicked in. That there would be nightmares she had no doubt. Maybe that was what she would do next, hunt down every person who had helped or profited from their disaster and kill them. 

Their hosts had mostly dissipated. She caught a glimpse of red and black near the entrance that was Raph and Casey drinking. Leonardo and Donatello had disappeared along with their Master Splinter. The only lights came from the hood of the stove and the TV, where the orange banded turtle was watching some cartoon. She walked over till she stood behind the couch. What was exopack edicate for this? They had already been introduced. Did they even operate on the same rules as her pack or some crazy turtle variant? What did turtle social structures look like? 

“Wanna watch?” He asked. “I can rewind it if you want.”

“No, it's ok. What is this?” 

“Only the second best show of all time, well of the 80’s. It’s Trogdor the Barbarian!” 

She flipped over the back of the couch and landed next to him. He didn’t have any pockets to pick and she hadn't seen a cellphone yet. 

“Pepperoni jalapeno Cheese ball?” He offered. She took one and popped it in her mouth. 

“Wow that's good.” She was hardly faking. It was like a chocolate cream truffle but pizza flavored with a breaded crust around it and a cheese tomato-meat-sauce on the inside. She grabbed another. 

“I know right! No one ever likes my cooking around here.”

“I like it. ‘Cores I’m so hungry right now I could eat anything.” She thought back. Her last meal must have been the leftover Chinese last night. No wonder shifting twice took so much out of her. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” He asked jumping up and grabbing her around the waist before she could protest. He blasted off the back of the couch and landed nearly to the kitchen. “Here sit down.” He plopped her in a seat and began pulling out food. She did not like how easily he could move her. She would have to find out how strong these guys really were. 

It took him no time to whip up a feast out of random junk out of the fridge and cabinets. It was all very odd things. Nothing she could even name but as the smells wafted past her nose couldn't help but breath in deep. It smelt amazing. 

“Here try it.” He held up a wooden spoon full of green sludge and she slurped it up. Tasted like a greek salad, almost.

“Did you add mustard?” She asked.  
He took a sip from the spoon. “That's perfect! I was wondering what it was missing.”

“I’m surprised you can get feta, living in a sewer.”   
“There’s a Greek place a few blocks from here that actually reads use by dates.” 

“On cheese?”  
“They throw out the salt water.” 

“Then it ain’t a real greek place. I’ve been to Greece. Everything's covered in salt brine. The people, the food, even the air. Makes having fur a pain.”

He laughed, it was no laughing matter at the time but now she could see the humor of her time as frizziest of werewolves. His laugh was contagious. When he did it his whole face scrunched up and he closed his bright blue eyes. She couldn't analyze anything hidden past them just open emotion. “You're way too cute to be a classic movie-monster, you have to be a wereshitsu or something.” She moved her eyes away from his face. 

“More a bloodhound, but you're pretty cute for a turtle-freak yourself.” That was way more honest than she intended. “Seconds?” She covered, Pointing to a bowl of sardine and olive udon. 

The boy looked like he was going to cry from joy. “Eat as much as you want Dudette.” He piled it up on her plate and she devoured it as he ate out of the pot with chopsticks. When was the last time she had eaten till she was full? After the point when she really should have stopped and almost every plate was empty, she leaned over the counter, her stomach an overstuffed pillow.   
“I can't move.” She said.   
“You gonna finish that?” He asked. She pushed the last of the deep fried green stuff filled with lighter green stuff toward him.   
“So you never answered my question.” He said taking a bite off her plate.  
“What question?”  
“Your Bro said he wasn’t sure of something. But he didn’t say what. If it's food related I can help.”  
She began to laugh but it jostled her stomach too much so she settled for chuckling through her nose. “Thank you, Michelangelo but no it’s-”

“You can call me Mikey”  
“Mikey then.” She smiled, “Trust me it wasn’t food related.”  
“What was it? And what should I call you? You need a cool name if you're gonna fight crime in New York City.”

“I am not fighting crime anywhere. Most definitely not in New York. I’m never coming back to this awful place.”

 

“Ah man.” He sounded really said about that for some reason. “Is that what he wasn’t sure about? If you we're going to stay? Cause you sound pretty sure, ummm…”

“Tracker. My name’s Tracer. If you have to know he wasn’t sure if any of us were still alive.” She sat up suddenly embarrassed for having let her guard slip. She must be really tired. This turtle-man, or turtle-boy she guessed, it was hard to tell but he couldn't be much older than her. He was looking at her with pure sympathy now. He turned away and she could tell he was sorry for pushing too hard.   
r  
She tried not to talk about what happened but for some reason she wanted to tell this kid. The impulse warred against her natural closed off nature but there was something in his sad slumped posture that made her begin.

“My brother was taken, four years ago during a raid on our home. Some hunters found out about us and burned down my grandmother's house in New Mexico. My mother and three of my cousins died in the fire, my baby sister died of complications from the smoke. I got this.” She pulled up her shit again exposing not only the fresh bruises but also the huge burn scar that ran down her back starting from under her shoulder blades past the line of her pants. “And they took Doc. He didn’t know what happened to the rest of us. He must have given up hope anyone was coming for him. I- I took too long.” She pulled it back down and slumped against the counter. All her fears piling up on her head.

“No, no you got him back right? Oh man, I’m sorry.” He patted her back, looked at his hands and wiped off a bit of cheese on the pink apron he had put on during the cooking extravaganza. His solemn expression did not match the flecks of cheese on his face or the heart shaped ruffled top of his cooking outfit. She choked and had to laugh at the contrast.

The tears caught as she coughed and giggled them down. It was strange how easily she could talk about this, her yearly dreaded call to Mac was always so painful, full of things getting stuck in her chest and unable to say them. Maybe it was because she had finally found Doc, maybe it was something about this kid. 

He looked around his home. “I can’t even imagine. I’m sure he knew you would show up. Just like I know my bros would always come for me. Or how we find Raph when he runs off on his own.” He leaned over to whisper to her. “Don’t tell him, but Don put a chip in his shell when he got knocked out the first time.”

“The first time? Does this happen often?”  
“Oh ya. Mostly to me. Don’s probably chipped us all. He gave Master Splinter a bracelet that tracks his heartbeat. How did you know your brother was still alive? Something like that?” 

“No, just a feeling. We never found his body. He’s the oldest, he was always patching us up. That’s how he got the name Doc. I just couldn't believe he would have let that happen. He would have gotten Bonny out instead of mom going back for her.”

“It's always just been my brothers and Splinter, Well April and Casey too now they're kinda like an aunt and uncle, Except April's also like a big sister and Casey's a knuckle head. I always wanted a big family.”

“It’s not all that great. Splinter is your Alpha right? How did that…” She waved her hands vaguely upwards “happen?”

“Alpha? Is that like a dog thing? Splinter is our sensei he taught us ninjitsu, like HAYAA!” He did a chop. “If anyones alpha it's Leo.” He screwed up his face and did an impersonation she didn’t recognize. “He’s Top Dog ‘round here.”

“What?”

“From the B-Squad. You haven’t seen it?”

“No, why would anyone still watch super old shows like that?”

“Oh man, you have got to. There's this one episode where Mis. P is fighting a robot who thinks she’s its mother and…”

She followed him back to the couch leaving the remains of the food laying on the counter. He was a talkative little guy but she found it soothing. If she got him talking about something he loved he stopped asking so many questions and she could just float along in his sea of perpetual happiness. He must be the youngest she realized, they always seem to turn out like that.

She caught herself wondering if this was what Bonny would have grown up to be. She shot out another question about the ridiculous cartoon they were now apparently watching and let his enthusiastic voice drone through everything. 

She woke up on the couch with a blanket over her. It was dark and her eyes cracked open with a sick crunch of dried goo. Behind the TV an old fashioned clock pointed both hands upwards. She had slept way too late. The room was nearly dark. Only lit by a soft glow from behind paper walls on one side of the living space. Shadows played over the paper screen. Someone was doing some sort of pose practice. Was it a Ninjutsu thing like Mikey had said earlier? 

She pulled back the screen a bit and peeked through. Raphel had his twin sai out and was moving from quick strikes into blocks. His brother Leonardo was on the other side of the room shadowing his movements with his own katana.

“Shadow boxing.” She whispered to herself   
“Almost, You can come in,” Leonardo said without breaking his movements. She slid the door closed behind her. The room was large and covered in handwoven tatami mats. She had never been inside a dojo but it looked exactly like one from the movies. 

“You any good?” She asked Raph.   
“The best.” He smirked finishing a routine and spun his sai end over end before dropping them back in his belt loop. 

“You fought well during our escape. Do you study martial arts?” Leo asked still practicing his flowing sword movement.   
“No, nothing formal. Bet I could give you a good run though.” She hadn't had a shower yet and she smelled horrible. Might as well get in a bit of exercise before she got cleaned up.   
“Oh really?” Raph asked  
“Wanna go?” Why was she so comfortable with these people? Sparing with strangers is not something she would normally do for fun. She decided it was to test them. She wanted to see what they were in for when they tried to leave.

“You're both still injured from last night.” Leonardo began. He was the eldest alright, just like Mikey had said. His voice from last night coming back crystal clear. 

“Ya ya. Leo’s just scared I’ll kick his shell.”  
“We can see about that. I’ll take on both of you as long as you promise to take it easy on your injuries.”  
“Sounds like a plan fearless leader,” Raph answered for her. Like she was part of their pack. This was so weird. He turned to her. “Got any weapons besides those guns from last night?”

“No.” She lied, feeling the two brass knuckles in her pockets. The one on her left made an uncomfortable imprint from sleeping on it. Her knife was back still in the eldest’s room, tucked into the lining of her duffle coat. She shouldn't have left home without more weapons. 

“Pick one,” Raph said pointing at a wall of weapons on the far side of the dojo. 

She found something around the size of her back knife and two knuckleduster-looking things with spikes on the outside. They were made with only two finger holes but big enough that they could fit her hand.

“You have those on backwards,” Raph said from behind her. “They’re for climbing walls not fighting.”

“I think they’ll do.” She said. “Hold on.” Another pocket had a hair tie that kept back the stands long enough to get in her eyes. She did a few quick stretches and rolled her shoulders. “Ready when you are.”

Leo moved to the center of the mats and unsheathed a sword. 

“Leo’s gonna take it easy on you.” Raph quipped, stepping to her side. “Don’t you feel lucky?”

They wove around him in different directions skirting the safe distance from his blade. Raph moved first. He slid up to his brother and caught the sword in the fork of his sai. Leo struck the inside of his brother’s elbow, bending it in a painful direction and Raph disengaged, flowing back to the circling pattern. 

“I told you to take it easy on that arm.” Leo lectured

Tracker went next. The turtle had range and strength on her but what about speed? Two jabs to his plastron did nothing and a kick aimed at his head was dodged with almost lazy ease. She refused to back off. Sweeping under him accomplishing nothing but getting another bruise on her leg. These guys were built like tanks. She had a flash of Mac and Raph in a push-up competition, and she wasn’t sure who would win. 

Leo wasn’t taking shots that were right there. She didn’t know if he knew they were a trap or he was just going that easy on her. Finally he flipped his blade around and took a swing at a shoulder she exposed. A block with the outside of her knuckles and the tiny hooks caught it. He seemed to sense the catch the second it happened and pulled his blade toward himself instead of finishing the strike that would have pulled it out of his hand. 

She growled and retreated. She expected him to let her go but he had seen one of her tricks and had raised his expectations of her. He advanced as well. Stabs went over her head at what she assumed was a fraction of his normal speed. She would have been backed into a wall if Raph hadn't cut in catching it with his sai and sending a spin kick into his brother’s side. 

She slid to the other side and aimed for the softer looking parts of his shell that connected the back and front. He winced a bit but with his eyes still on his brother he swept his hand around and swatted her off like a fly. 

She fell a few feet back and watched the two boys spar across the floor. This was way too much. She shook herself like a dog drying off and pushed the change out through her skin. It stung like needles in every pore but she ignored the pain and pulled herself up. Leo felt her coming at him from behind and flipped his and Raph’s tussle so she would hit Raph first. Instead, she jumped over the turtle on her side and landed on Leonardo's shoulders, throwing him backward onto his shell. He flipped up and she slid to a stop. 

“Was wondering if I would get a chance to fight with the Dog-Chick again,” Raph said circling behind his brother.   
“Please don’t call me that.” 

This time they attacked at once. Raph went low sending a barrage of punches into his brother's chest. Tracker forcing Leonardo to protect his head instead. They managed to gain ground but the eldest turtle was amazing. He grunted through punches Tracker was sure would shatter her bones. Even his blocks hurt. The moment they let up a fraction he was across the floor and drawing a second blade.

“Done playing around big bro?” Raph asked mockingly.   
“I’m surprised that stomach wound isn’t slowing you down.” He said pointing his katana at Tracker’s sternum. 

“It is a bit, but I’ve had worse. We heal fast.”  
“No kidding?” The next attack was all aimed at her. Raph tried to intercept but Leo stepped around him with simple grace. She dodged and batted away the swords with her makeshift knuckledusters. Once she twisted out of the way and the swords grazed her back leaving a thin red line and the back of her shirt wide open. 

Leonardo backed off instantly. Raph used the hesitation to catch his brother from behind and tackle him to the ground knocking the two swords out of his hands. 

“Tap out bro.” Raph said   
Leo side and taped the tatami twice. 

They all collapsed to the floor from exhaustion. 

“You lied,” Leo said through heaving breaths. “Where did you study?”  
“School of hard knocks.”  
Leo gave her a look that reminded her way too much of Mac before everything happened. 

“A woman’s prison in Hong Kong, a bit from my father, and some from a Brazilian special ops group called The Anaconda Cable.” She said.

Raph whistled low. “Which one gave you that nasty burn?”  
“Father.”   
“Oh, Shell.” 

It wasn’t quite a lie, he was in the end, responsible for everything that happened. She just hoped that would stop them asking questions. 

“Where are you going to go?” Leo asked. “Your welcome here till you both heal but after that, are you going to live your whole life on the run?”

So much for no more questions. They were all sitting up now. Raph slumped forward, nursing the elbow Leo had bent back. They way he asked it was so honest Tracker had to wonder if he did mean it.

“You’re really planning on letting my brother and me go.”  
“What else would we do?” He asked seeming genuinely confused.   
“Get your super genius to rig up explosive collars or something! I don’t know! I’m not used to people giving up power over us so easily. In Hong Kong they at least called in ransom before they let me go. Brazil actually paid me but it still wasn’t exactly willing work.”

“We fight our own battles,” Raph rumbled. 

Tracker squinted at the brothers. “I need a phone.” She said still not truly expecting it to be this easy. Leo palmed a green shelled monster of a phone out from somewhere and handed it over without a word. She took it and dialed Mac’s number. 

A few rings, she waited.   
“Mac Douglas.” Said a tired voice on the other side. What time was it in London? 

“I found him Mac. Get Cristal and Gabriel and enough money for a fake passport. Oh, and don’t tell my father. We're in New York’s Chinatown. Below-.” She almost gave the cross streets they were under. The two boys didn’t move to stop her. “South of Canal.” She amended. 

“You found him?” Mac yelled loud enough she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Don’t fake me out this time Amara. Not you have a lead or anything like that. You have him. You are looking at him right now.”

“Ya, he was in bad shape but alive. Some, friends, patched him up and he's asleep. I’ll have him call when he wakes up.”

“Friends?” Mac asked. “That’s why you don’t want Fang to know?”

“Mac, I found your dumb boyfriend and theses guys helped. I don’t want any weird blood debt thing from Nana and I don’t want that ass to find some reason to start a fight.”

She heard Raph whisper “I'd fight anyone named ‘Fang’.” to Leo. 

“It could take a few weeks to get tickets and enough cash. Can I call this phone number and get you?”

“No, you still have my last burner number?” She asked.

“Ya, the 6280 one. I need to get some stuff ready but I want a call the minute he wakes up kay?”  
“ ‘Corse Mac. You're the best man.”

“You're going to be my best man.”

“Whow, don’t you think you should ask Doc before you go making plans? At least give the guy some time.” She joked back at him.

“We already had plans Amara,” Mac said suddenly serious. “He wouldn’t have turned me if we didn’t. Have to go. You. Call back.”  
“Will do.” She said a second before the click.

“Thank you for not telling him,” Leo said taking the phone back from her.   
“I need to go get some things from my hotel room.”   
“Clean up first. There's' a shower three doors down.” They got up, Raph cracking his back, somehow.  
“Don’t use the orange towel.” He grumbled working his way up his joints. “Mikey never washes it.”

“Got it.” She said walking out of the dojo. 

 

In the week that followed, she found exactly what Raphel meant by “Fighting their own battles.” Every other day seemed to bring them home battered and worn. Their sensei was kind and insisted they weren't intruding but Tracker couldn't help feeling useless. Then the day came where they came back minus one. Mikey had been separated from their group and as they stumbled into “The Lair” as they called it Tracker could easily tell the difference. 

Normally they would be mocking and insulting each other after a good fight. Or if it had gone poorly Mikey would do something outrageously dumb and lift the mood. Now there was none of that, just a grim determination to get their brother back. 

“He's moving fast,” Donatello said flipping through his Tphone. “Heading for Delancy.”  
“We need to stop Razor before anyone else gets hurt,” Leo said patching up a gash on his own arm.   
“Or he goes underground,” Don said. “I still don't have the Radio receiver fixed. We're working off GPS. If he goes underground I won't be able to track his TPhone.”

“You must hurry my sons.” Splinter ordered as they affixed a few more weapons on their belts.

“I’m coming too,” Tracker said standing up from the couch.

“You can’t, Razar is too dangerous,” Leonardo said leaping over the turnstiles.   
She followed anyway letting the change slip her out of her skin. She felt better than she had in years. Between Mikey feeding her good food and sparing nearly all the time instead of spending hours cooped up reading old emails, she could change almost without thought. Splinter had even taught her to meditate. She trusted them. It was a strange feeling. It probably didn’t hurt that Mac and the twins would be showing up in two days. She loped behind the turtles keeping up with them easily. She felt ready to take on the world.

“Razor is ferocious, he can tear you apart,” Leo said running beside her.   
“We will see.” 

“Let ‘er come if she wans’ta” Raph said from the lead position. “Long as she dosen’t get in my way.”

Tracker had to smile. It was true what Mikey had told her the first night. This did happen to him a lot.

Her low light vision was enhanced when she was shifted this far but she could still hardly see anything in the sewers as they ran. She followed turning when they turned and stepping where they stepped. 

They came up near some bar past Delancy. Wood panels painted bright red and black. Drunks meandered about, near the one-story brick structure surrounded by taller apartment buildings. Heh, ‘Hair of the Dog’ She liked this place already. 

“He stopped moving,” Donatello said as they climbed from the rail to the awning of the next door grocery store. 

They stood in the relative shadow of the roof. Across the street, colorful prayer flags fluttered in some shop’s window. Next to that one stood a marble facade with gargoyle's faces staring out of the dark. 

“He should be right here!” Donatello lamented. Tracker sniffed the air, blood, and fear. Something didn’t smell right.

“I found something,” Raph growled. She didn’t have to look to know what it was. Mikey’s T-phone and a peeled slice of shell, embedded with a small GPS signal generator. 

“Mikey.” Leo breathed taking the pieces of his brother out of Raph’s hands. She could tell Raph wanted to scream but was keeping it in. He was a ninja as well as a hothead. 

“Leonardo.” She whisper-called. He materialized beside her bringing the scent of Mikey’s blood with him. Donatello was frantically typing into his phone. She didn’t know what for. 

“Do those gargoyles look strange to you?” She asked, flicking her eyes toward the offending stone figures. Leo’s hands clenched.   
“Keep an eye on the one on the left.” He whispered back before turning towards his brothers. “We lost his trail.” He spoke out loud. “We need to spread out. Don, East, Raph. north, I’ll go west, He wouldn’t have doubled back so Tracker will stay here and try to pick up his… scent- His scent. Got it?” 

They split, disappearing into the darkness without a sound. Tracker could hardly believe they were ever there. They melted into shadows. She made a show of inspecting where Raph had found the TPhone, moving in circles. Glancing about herself in an effort to keep their “gargoyle” pinned.

In one casual sweep, she noticed three pairs of white eyes creeping behind the not-so-stone figure. With a lurch one slipped a chain noose around it’s neck and pulled it up the side of the building. 

It scraped up the white brick between pairs of tall windows chipping the decorative scrollwork before disappearing over the ledge of the building. She stepped back a ways and took a running leap off the bar’s roof. Using the wrought iron fence around the top as a leg up, she sailed across the street and landed on the fire escape to the left of the actual gargoyle and scrambled up. Leo had the chain around the neck of a huge werewolf. Bigger than Mac when he transformed. It was grey with spikes of black bones protruding from its flesh. Growling and yelling, it snatched Leonardo from its back and threw him against the roof. Raph was already on it. He wrapped the chain about his arm and pulled the monster down. 

“Where is my brother!” He yelled stepping further up the chain and sending the enormous wolf to it’s knees. Donatello spun about the thing keeping it from recovering enough focus to pry itself up. Leo sprang to his feet, winded but not much injured. He drew the twin katana on his back and advanced. 

Tracker hesitated. The three worked in perfect unison, she would only get in the way. That was what she thought, till the humanoid wolf let out a howl that would have put her father to shame and ripped free of the chain. 

She sprang after it pulling the chunky knife out of her back scabbard. It clanged against the claws of her opponent. They must each be six inches long. The more experienced fighters flowed around her making room for her more brutal, less formed fighting style. She stabbed clawed and bit trying to tear into the things concrete flesh. Leonardo parried one hand full of razor sharp claws before it gutted her across the stomach. She pushed off with her legs trying to gain as much speed as she could, knife gripped in both hands held out in front of her. To her left, Raphael got in a few good stabs in the bicep causing this thing to retract in pain. She plunged her blade into the beast's lower chest and pulled it as far down as it would go. It must have cut clean through the oblique because it was staggered, having a hard time keeping upright. 

Donatello slapped something across its back and was swatted across the roof before pressing a button. Electric discharge shot across the wolf's forum. It screamed like a man possessed. Tracker had to wonder if it was even sapient. Was it possible they could win agents this thing?

“We won’t ask again Razar. Where is our brother?” Leo yelled clanging his swords against the beast’s shoulder. They only dug in a quarter of an inch but blood was flowing freely out of the wound.   
Blood Tracker released. Don was back in the fight spinning his Bo over and around the monster keeping it from focusing on his more deadly brothers. Tracker caught Leo’s gaze as he flipped over her dodging a swipe that missed by inches. This was beyond her now. She retreated sticking her nose close to the rough texture of the roof. She had his scent, and he would still be bleeding from the wound in his shell. 

A bit away from the fight stood a red rooftop patio, if it wasn’t the middle of the night it would likely be full of hipsters drinking coffee. She glanced back at the frantic battle going on on the other side of the roof. Don was injured, he was limping but still fighting. Trying to pin another of his gadgets to the monster’s skin. 

“Three against one Razor! Give up and I’ll only ram your head halfway through the asphalt!” Raph yelled blocking a hit that would have taken Leo out of play and turning it into a push that nearly sent the monster off the edge.   
“I don’t have to fight you alone.” The beast taunted. So it could speak. She wished it hadn't. Growling and climbing over the roof behind him was nothing short of a weretiger. The brother’s dodged blasts, Leo pulling Donatello out of the way at the last second. Weretiger with laser pistols. This is getting ridiculous. 

She focused, trying to find where the red structure in front of her could hide a teenage terrapin. The sound of his laugh came back to her. Screw it. She kicked in the metal plating holding it to the roof. Sure enough, the smell of blood increased. Her knife plunged into the metal plating and made a sound like dying cats as it carved out an opening. Or was that one of the boys actually landing a blow on the tiger-man?

She crawled through the opening following the thick scent of blood. Her hand touched something cold. Fear shot through her. What did dead turtle feel like? Did they need warmth? Wrapping her hand around whatever part that was, she crawled backward. 

“So you found ‘em.” The gray wolf-beast stood in front of her. Behind him the brother’s tackled the weretiger and were rebutted at every turn. She couldn't even take on Leonardo by herself and yet here she was drawing her knife against the fabric of her pants as if to prepare it. She set Mikey down behind her. His head lolled to the side, bright eyes closed. 

“Mikey!” “Tracker!” One of the boys screamed from the other side of the roof. She couldn’t tell who it was. Instead, she let loose, howling and twisting as far as the curse would let her. Beyond what she had ever gone. This thing was not going to get through. Her muscles contracted and she launched herself at the monster. 

Why had she left without her pistols? The knife chipped one of his back spikes and he clawed at her in retaliation. It cut into her arm. She didn’t care. This was the fight for her brother again, concentrated on another wolf. She could see her father’s face in him. The knife swatted out of her hand and she switched to brass knuckles. They did absolutely nothing. He pushed her aside and something caught her before she tumbled over the roof. 

“She’s found Mikey. It’s time we were gone, Raph!”   
“Good call.” 

Mikey’s cold form was shoved into her arms and something else picked her up. Her vision was full of purple smoke and her stomach lurched into her mouth as she tumbled. Falling but not sure which way was down. In a moment they were below the ground and running. She was still holding Mikey, beside her Raph had Don in a bridal carry. 

This is how she had always imagined finding her brother. Running for her life, unsure if he was alive or dead. She didn’t question why she already cared so much, she just did. 

“Master Splinter?” Asked the turtle in her arms.   
“No Mikey, it’s Mara- Tracker. We’ll get you to your father soon.” She replied. 

If it wasn’t for these turtles this is how it most likely would have gone. She had underestimated New York City. 

“Raph?” The turtle questioned, “Why're you so hairy?”  
“Right here little bro.” Said the brother on her other side still carrying Donnie. “You hold on Mikey, the nice dog-chick is gonna get you home safe or we're gonna have real authentic Chinese for dinner.”

“No, Raph! Don’t eat my girlfriend.” He sounded so indigent.   
“He’s fine,” Leo said moving from rearguard to lead of their little group. “You going to be ok Donnie?”

“I’m, ah. Adequate. Do you have to carry me like this?” He asked Raphael.   
“You rather walk?” 

They stopped sprinting and slowed to a less panicked pace once they turned on Hester near Lion’s Gate. Michelangelo was slowly pulling out of his concussion and asking important questions, like if they could stop for pizza. 

In anyone else, she would guess that was the brain damage talking, but hearing Mikey ask it was cause for relief. She laughed nearly stumbling over some piece of ragged sewer pipe. 

“Pizza is serious business.” Mikey pouted, sticking his bottom lip out. 

“Oh, shut up dork.” She said planting an enormous smooch those lips. The dumb little turtle who had made her laugh so easily went a bit rigid and she slid to a stop. “Um, sorry.” She stammered. 

He grabbed her face in both his hands and mushed their lips together. Man, he was a bad kisser. But, she guessed she knew what people meant when they said awful things happen to good people. He was one of those rare ‘good people’ and she, was one of those awful things.


	2. Chapter 2

**** The plane jolted as wheels hit pavement. She looked up from studying the maps for the first time out of the two hour flight. Her eyes ached as they refocused. As the plane crawled towards the terminal she leaned back, watching people jostling to be first out. She had claimed a window seat in the furthest back row, waiting till the plain emptied. She would have to wait anyway, pushing to be first wouldn't get her  _ home _ any faster.

It still felt odd, calling New York home. Before London there hadn't been a home for so long, and New Mexico, still hurt to think about. The aisle had finally emptied so she grabbed her small bag and trudged off. Customs, baggage claim, people everywhere. For some reason she didn’t mind the crowds in airports. They were some of the most emotionally charged places on earth, homecomings and tearful goodbyes, and she just walked by it all, got in a cab and continued the trek.

“Stop up here.” It was early morning, and the city that never sleeps was lightly dozing. The cabbie pulled to the side of the road and offered to help her unload her substantial luggage. She declined and passed him the cash.

“Sure you know where you be go'en lady?” He asked out the window. She nodded curtly and waited for him to drive off before starting down the alley.

“T!” She had enough time to flick her eyes up before something heavy fell out of the sky and started hugging her.

“Hi, honey,” She hugged him back for a moment and shoved some bags into his hands. “Let’s get inside, we can catch up when we're not in the open.”

“Good idea.” Leo’s voice came from the shadows.

Mikey stuck his tongue out, but bent down to pry off the manhole cover.

“What’d ya bring back this time?” Raphael asked as she passed the last trunk down to him.

“Priceless ceramic urns, said to curse those who are near if they break. There are three in that trunk.” His eyes widened a fraction. With excessive care, he set down the container he had been peering into onto the cement below. She scrambled down after it and scraped the cover back into place. Once the darkness covered them Leo let out a sigh.

“Thank you for coming, Tracker, I know you were in the middle of  something important.”

She shook her head. “There's not much I wouldn't drop for you guys, the dead Aztec can wait a few more weeks.”

“You think it’ll take weeks to find him?” Mikey asked, changing the subject back to the issue at hand. She looked at his puppy dog eyes - big, blue and begging despite the dark. She didn’t say anything, just pulled her subdued husband into her side -half hugging him - and didn't stop walking. The lair was dark and quiet when they arrived. 

 

“Is Splinter asleep?” She whispered as the boys stepped silently through the main room with a skill she had always envied. 

 

“No, I have not slept much these past days.” 

 

Behind them, Raphael and Leo exchanged a few muffled syllables. The lights of the main living area flicked on, the rest of the house remained shadowed. The unlikely pair stepped down into the depressed circular area she referred to as the “fish bowl.”

 

She bowed at the waist and back up.“Hello Splinter sir.” _Sorry your son disappeared for days._ _Hope your family doesn't break if he's gone. Hope I haven’t lost another brother-._ “I’m back,” she said somewhat lamely, with shrugged shoulders.

 

“Indeed. My sons have missed you. Perhaps I will have to send one to bring you back sooner next time.” His lips lifted up a mirthful twitch before settling back into his solemn expression. “You must be tired. We will talk tomorrow.” She shook her head, dull brown hair swishing back and forth above a slightly squared jaw. She looked down at her watch. 

“It’s only two and I slept on the plane. Sir. If you don’t mind I would really like to get started.”

 

Her husband’s father was an enigma. He was kind and stern but quiet. The opposite of her own family in every regard. The only thing that reminded her in the least bit of her loud demanding father was his light cinnamon fur. And his snout, it wasn’t quite the same shape but close. He spoke with a distinguished Japanese accent and loved to talk with her despite the limited vocabulary she had in that language. He never minded when she switched to English mid-sentence or said something at the wrong politeness level. 

 

Mikey stood behind her, unsure of himself as she spread out her maps on the table. Most hand drawn over the years, they detailed the city at every level. She finished spreading out the street level map and stood up, grabbing his hand. Three months after she had first met this family they he had told her the story of how they came to live in this city. Splinter-sensei, then called Yoshi, had his family ripped apart and his clan destroyed. It echoed what happened to her pack in New Mexico. If she could spare her husband that, make it a story he never had to experience himself, she would. 

 

They pored over the maps, getting Tracker up to speed. The letter that had prompted her back was sparse on the details. “ _ Donie is missing, please come home. _ ” Splinter was sure his son was still alive and somehow equally confident he was in New York City. 

 

Over the years she had learned to trust her father-in-law’s odd sense of his son’s presences. It wasn’t magic quite the way she had been raised with it. As a tool - double sided and dangerous, but useful. Nor was it the way her employer Mz. Sorrows used it - like a science almost. Know enough and you can master it - make it your slave. 

 

They had last seen Donatello three days ago. He had gone out alone to the scrap yard. Half an hour later, Splinter declared his son was in danger. They had found his pack in the scrap yard and his T-phone crushed inside it. No longer giving out a signal. 

 

This wasn’t a basic GPS signal, Donnie was too proud for that. It was a low power radio broadcast Donie linked to each of the T-phones. After New Mexico, Tracker had experimented with that type of system. None of the trackers she had made were as precise as the private network Donatello had set up around NYC. 

 

He was the brother that she least understood. If his father said he wasn’t gone it was best to believe him and not lose hope. The brothers marked where they had already searched on the maps. It spread out like an erratic spider web from where they had first found the crushed phone. 

 

Leo handed the scraps to Tracker. They didn’t smell of anything in particular, besides wet metal. 

Raph stopped pacing and stared at what she held in her hand. The only clue to his brother’s whereabouts they had. She laid the pieces out on the table. The shell that decorated the back of the phone was in one piece. She picked it up and turned it over.  _ Bent _

“Raphael?” she held out her hand palm up. “Could I borrow your hand?”

“Um, ya.” He held it out and she grabbed his wrist maneuvering the shell into position. They matched the three fingers indentation. 

“Raphael do you think you could crush one of these with one hand?”

“Heh, no way-”

“Don overbuilt these” Leo interrupted. “We could land on one shell first and not even dent it.”

There went that theory. Going through the pieces, nothing seemed to be missing. She kept staring at it as Leo outlined the search pattern for the next night. April and he would head up to 110th. Mikey would escort Tracker through the scrap yard searching for anything they overlooked. LeatherHead was still plumbing the depths of the East River/Upper Bay and the dynamic duo of Casey And Raphael would search down to Battery Park. Tracker suspected this last pair was mostly to let Casey work his magic on the most overprotective brother. They could spend their time busting each other's heads and look for Don at the same time. It might be enough to keep Raphael from exploding.

 

It was five am when everything was said and done. Mikey’s hand snuck into hers. Splinter had long ago slipped into a quiet meditation, trying to locate his son through unknown means. Raphael had quieted as well. Eyes glazing over, Tracker looked to Leonardo for permission to leave the common area. Old habits die hard. With a nod from him, she let her husband drag her off to bed.

 

He closed the door and slumped against it, head sagging. It took a long moment but his big blue eyes came up to meet Tracker’s darker green ones. “Hey babe.”

“Hey.” He looked so tired. A full head shorter than her. He looked so much younger than 20. Tracker wrapped her arms around his head and felt his bulky ones go around her waist. Mikey never wasted a lot of energy worrying. It just wasn’t in him but this had him fidgeting with stress. She rested one hand on his scalp and looked around the dimly lit room. It hadn’t been cleaned since her last visit two months ago. The paper wrappers, comic books and drawings still lying in the same configuration. Bending over she hugged him back and waded across the ocean of junk to the small bed. 

“We’ll find him hun.”

“Ya, I know.” He sounded more sure than she felt. They curled up as close as possible. Almost immediately Tracker felt his breathing stop hitching and go even. Gently raising and lowering his chest under her head. His enormous hand covering half her face as he pet her hair. Horrible circumstances but it was nice to be home. 

  
  


Tracker’s eyes snapped open but it was still dark. No light shining through thick leaves and the blurry green was a different kind of familiar - a shade that definitely didn’t belong in the forests of Brazil. She nuzzled against the hard plastron pressed against her face. She had shifted to half dog forum in her sleep. Wriggling free she fell ungracefully off the bed and into the junk below. She hit a empty can on her way down, and it clanked against the steel bed frame.  _ Wonderful. _

 

Behind the door voices spoke in hushed tones. The deepest one was LeatherHead. Probably the only one of the group who understood half of what Don ever said. If Tracker’s hunch was right and Don had somehow destroyed his own lifeline he would be the one to figure out why. She spread out her limbs on the cluttered floor and let the motion flow into her change. Her form lengthens and she curls upwards, hands held above her head until she regained her human posture. It would take more effort than she felt inclined to expend to change back completely so the fur, dark chocolate marked with honey, and small docked stub of a tail could stay. The fangs were a constant that she couldn't alter no matter the circumstance. Now for clothes. She pulled her green cargo pants out from under her husband’s sleeping form. The dork didn’t show any sign of being disturbed from slumber. Her shirt was wedged thoroughly under his shell and she was afraid to pull it too hard or it could rip. She scratched the large white patch of fluffier fur under her sports bra considering. Relatively clothed she would just stay half shifted. MonaLisa, Raph’s mate, walked around with nothing more than a bandana and no one tisked at her. Of course she was a reptile.  

 

Bending over she gave her husband one more kiss, then snuck out. Leo and April were sitting around the breakfast table with LeatherHead’s massive frame on the ground beside them. 

“Morning.” She glanced at the clock in the living room. “Afternoon” she amended. “Are we waiting for dark?”

“Not Raph” Leo grumbled. 

“He snuck out with Casey.” April clarified. 

“Makes sense.” Tracker said producing a protein bar from her pocket and scarfing it down, before offering another around the table. No one seemed to be particularly hungry so she ate it too. “LeatherHead, I have some questions about the T-phone’s functionality. If anyone could understand it would be you.” 

 

“Of course. I would be happy to help in any way I could. I'm afraid my own searching has been less than profitable.” She dragged him to the Fishbowl and the parts left in a semi-organized pile.

 

“Ok, did you work on the design at all? Especially the radio location device.”

“I helped position the receivers. Donatello is young but his mind far outstrips mine. I could offer only experience with regards to the design.”

“Can you walk me through how it works? Is there anything missing?”

 

They combed through the pile piece by piece. Nothing missing, at least nothing LH could remember. 

 

The big guy was so delicate with those claws. He reminded her of her brother’s mate - Mac. Huge but soft like a lamb. Still this wasn’t leading anywhere. Head lolling over the back of the couch she growled in frustration. 

“I need to go see for myself.” One hand on the armrest Tracker flipped over the back of the couch and landed in a crouch. 

“Permission to go to the scrap yard and search till dusk?” 

“Are you going like that?” April asked gesturing to her semi furred form. She had a point. grumbling Tracker went down on all fours, tensed, and let the change twist her body. Fur grew shaggy. And everywhere. Her limbs cracked and repositioned into a stature more suited for four legs instead of two. Her mouth and tail grew long. She shook her new form, wiggling until her pants and bra slipped onto the floor, grabbed them in her teeth and tossed them over the back of the couch. 

 

A huge dog with the appearance of a bloodhound mixed with a bear. Her family shared most of the similar look although coloring and size differed. She was oddly proud of the patterns of light amber around her chest and face. She might be square faced and squat as a human but she thought she made a fairly handsome dog, when she managed to stay clean. 

 

Looking up at Leo she scratched her neck with a back leg, for emphasis. April covered her mouth with her hand, looking nearly as green as one of the brothers. Come to think of it, that's probably the first time she had seen Tracker transform. It's kinda gross if you don't know what’s going to happen. 

 

“Be back before six and take this.” He tossed his shell cell at her and she caught it in her jaws. A lot of good it would do her like this but he was Alpha here. She turned to LH and whacked her tail against the ground expectantly. He sighed and took the phone out of her mouth with delicate claws. Tied it around her neck with a scrap of cloth he took out from under the sink. Don won't mind, it's not his  _ good  _ washcloth afterall. She wagged in appreciation, turned and noded to the other two around the table - a slightly deeper bow of the head for Leo. She took off running and jumped over the turnstiles that acted as the front door. 

 

New York was unchanged. Finding an uncovered grate was easy. No one looked twice as a scrappy looking bloodhound mutt with a phone tied around its neck wriggled out of the sewer. She came up on Walker St near the church, cut across The Collect Pond and Columbus Park and was in the scrap yard in ten minutes. Hot pavement burned her paws but soon she was under the shade of the underpass and in Mechanic's Alley. Wriggling under the fence brought her to the landscape that plays center stage to Don’s dreams. Broken cars, almost all were delivery vans and busted up equipment, most of it from the restaurants around Chinatown. 

 

His scent was weak but it was evident that he spent way too much time here. After three days a scent should be dissipated to the point where she could not smell anything. Still, this was one of his favorite places and little things still retained his presence. Like a bench from a random diner he sat on to sort through usable parts. She found the pile of rags the boys said they had found Don’s pack in. She pawed at it. Braced herself and took a sniff. Changing may give certain benefits - like enhanced senses. It does not, however, give any sort of appreciation for what her animal counterpart might enjoy. A normal dog can spend all day pawing through garbage. If Don wasn't missing you couldn't pay Tracker enough to step foot in a rotting place like this - especially shifted. 

 

She gagged. Rotting cloth oil and a faint, faint Donny smell. She put nose to the ground and followed it a few feet till the small stream of oily water stopped in a puddle. This was going to get in her fur anyway so it didn’t matter. That’s what she told herself. It took a few false starts but she dug into the puddle up to her elbows. Something plastic splashed out with a substantial bit of mud. Now completely covered in oily guck she dropped to her belly and poked the plastic bit with her nose. All sent had washed off it but it looked like something Don might be interested in. The size of a thumb print, human, not any of the guys. It was dark black and had a thin antenna sticking out. Against her better judgement she licked it to clean it off. It tasted like copper.  _ Blood?  _ Yep that was blood. She spat as well as her form would allow. Well.  _ Now we’re getting somewhere.  _

 

Behind the opaque fence people walked, above her there were cars rumbling over the bridge. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it was like three days ago at midnight. Car lights would be the only illumination. If he had been ambushed they could have been hidden anywhere and given away buy a roaming headlight. The list of possible culprits was awfully thin. Stockman didn’t have the personnel to take one of the guys. The Foot would have sent something by now. A challenge at best, his head on a stake at worst. Besides there was always the unstable truce that Leo and Karai had arrived upon after the death of the Shredder. Bishop. She didn’t want to think about him. She hadn’t met the guy, but LeatherHead didn’t scare easily and the freak in the lab coat terrified him. Mikey didn’t joke about his name. No one even whispered about him. It was enough to give a girl the shivers. It could still be some new player. Tracker wasn’t in the habit of assuming things were as bad as they could get. 

 

So possibilities. Bishop had the manpower and the tec. If Don had known he was being cornered and had time to hide the T phone, what would he do? Crush it and hide it. But how? Ok, wait. Back up. 

 

She paced back from the pile of rags and looked around, he would have walked between these cars, looked up and the headlights picked up a human form lying on the delivery van watching him. Don was a smart guy - smarter than she was by far - he would know immediately it was an ambush. He crushed his phone because It could be used to track the others. Oh, but if Bishop, or whoever grabbed him, wanted the whole set they would have come forward with him as bait. Instead the boys had time to stew, enough time to call Tracker in. That was his first and final mistake. He is going to learn how Tracker got her name. Then she’s going to _ tear his throat out with her teeth.  _

 

She trotted up to the most likely sniper spot. It had a view of the place she had confirmed Don to have been. There was a disused oven and some pipes. They smelled like rubber for some reason. And a person. One definite person. She hadn’t met them before but they had spent a lot of time there. The other likely spots were busts so she went back to the first. Someone had camped out here hidden and waiting for Don. This was his spot. He was the only one of the boys who regularly came here. So someone needed Don and not the others. They needed his brain. That meant they needed him alive.

 

She just about collapsed as that realization hit her. She could finally trust her father-in-law’s blind faith that his son was alive. Mikey wouldn’t lose a sibling like she had. He wouldn’t break like she did. Now she just needed to find who this little slime was and bring the brainiac back in one piece. 

 

The guy who had turtle-napped her brother-in-law had to render him unconscious and then get him out of the scrap yard without attracting attention. He would need-. Yep this gate’s chain was newer than the other’s. Padlock too. Looked like a standard master lock. New, hopefully bought in the area. Within the week to give the kidnaper an easy entry. 

 

Five hours later she returned to the lair covered in mud and oil and with the taste of grime in her mouth. Sullied, but triumphant. She ducked under a blanket for modesty and stretched into a form capable of speech. Raphael and Casey had returned empty handed, unfortunately. Mikey looked downright distraught. 

“I think Don is alive.” She blurted out as soon as her form was capable. 

 

“What? How do you know?” Raph was on her in a moment, grabbing the blanket she had just wrapped around herself. 

Mikey and Leo held back near Casey. April was nowhere to be seen. LH was probably still deep in the bay. 

“I recreated most probable circumstances. I think his T-cell was the main one, and could be used to track all of yours. Who ever got to him didn’t care though. They camped out in his most frequented spot. They didn’t want any of you, just him. So what's special about Don? His brain. They need him alive till he can make them something or solve some problem for them.”

Raph was nodding along. Leo looked hopeful and Mike, Mike looked happy. 

_ Good. Keep it that way. _

 

“I got a scent. Its distinguishable but I don't recognize it. Hun, would you grab me some clothes I need to go out again.” Morphing this many times in one day was exhausting her. Tracker’s joints ached. 

 

Mikey grabbed some pants and a shirt from her bag as she rinsed off before throwing them on. Before leaving she grabbing one more thing. A fake NYPD badge made years ago. One quick flash could get you everything and more in a city where everyone had something to hide.

 

Stretching out to full human felt like growing pains all over, but the legs were always worst. They throbbed for hours after as well. Most places close around six so she had to run on them. Locksmiths first, she planned to go down the list till she found the one that sold that padlock. Third one down the list looked promising. Stand alone building, door propped open so a huge painted key could be seen on the inside wall. As she walked up Tracker noticed that the mural on the front was made out of thousands of keys. Slipping the fake badge back into her pocket she ran a hand along one of the spirals feeling the ridges. 

 

“Hello this is Greenwich Locksmiths how can I help you?” The man at the counter had his back to Tracker answering the phone. She took the opportunity to snoop around. The huge book lying open on the far table caught the eye. 

 

She ran a finger down one column of serial numbers. Useful, stock inventory. 

The man end the call with a “Thank you, have a good day.” 

“Can I help you miss?” He asked.

“Yes actually. I need to know if anyone in the past week bought this.” She held up the lock. “From your store.”

 

The man behind the counter was tall, with the long nose of northern Chinese or perhaps Korean descent. He sported a soul patch under his bottom lip, and a few rough but faded facial scars. Gang violence? No they were too old, perhaps childhood abuse. 

 

“Detective Loss NYPD.” She took the badge out and held it up. “There was a kidnaping yesterday. I’m looking for someone who bought this lock in the last two weeks. “ Tracker said holding up the padlock along with a bit of chain that was easier to break off. 

 

He took it and turned it over in his hand. 

 

“Looks like, ah, type AA Master Lock. We probably sell 50 of these a week.”

“Then I need your credit card records from the 13th onwards.”

 

“I can’t give out credit card information unless-”

 

“David,” She interjected glancing at his name tag. “I can get a warrant but might take 12 hours and I would be calling you at 1 am. A little boy was taken last night. Honestly this is the only leed we have. The first few hours are the most important, especially with targeted kidnaping. His names Donnie. A little boy, you can help me find him before he gets hurt.”

 

“Man you lay it on thick.” He said pulling up the counter to let her walk behind. “Ok, Don’t tell my boss. If your guy paid with cash your out of luck though.”

 

“Thank you, David. I won't be a second.” She pulled out a thumb drive and pulled the entire excel sheet onto it.  _ 19%...........20%..............21%................ _

  
  


Back at the lair, she plugged her thumbdrive into Don’s impressive cobbled together computer station. She pushed the massive and comfortable looking swivel chair away and bent over the keyboard. It felt to weird to sit down at his place. A small shiver clued her to to turn around. Splinter stood behind her two hands resting on the top knot of his cane. 

 

“You seem pleased child,” He said gesturing at the computer screen displaying a collage of various shops records. 

 

“Mmm.” She replied bringing up Donnie’s pattern matching software and typing in the lock’s serial number and the various prices she had gotten from the different shops. Even without being here Don the geneious was still saving the day. Hopefuly this would get them something. 

 

His progress bar inched across the screen in the form of a slow moving turtle icon. She was going to find him, make who ever took him experience an extraordinary amount of pain and then make fun of him, forever. 10 minutes till results. She turned back to Splinter. 

 

“Don’t know how things work in the US but If this Bishops guy operates similar to the small Ops groups in Brazil anything miscellaneous needed for a job would be bought by the operative when they needed it where they needed it with a burner card. Um, those are cards with fake names or businesses that don’t exist. Anyway we track that back to a physical billing location and go from there.”

 

Leonardo had sheathed his swords and walked over from the dojo. “Bishop won't give out the address to their secret headquarters to a credit card company.”

 

Tracker nodded. “I haven’t worked out how to  get from there to actually finding your brother. We don’t really have time to stake out a PO box.”

 

“Too bad we can’t just send Don his phone.” Mikey commented springing up from nowhere and wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist. He put his head on her shoulder to peek at the computer. “Wait, is Don’s little computer thing a turtle? That’s awesome.”

 

“That’s, actually a good idea.” Leo said hand under chin. 

 

“Do you think it could work?” Tracker asked, excited. “I think it could work.” She patted her husband’s head. “Ya, ya. Good plan hun.”

 

“Dudes, his phone’s trashed. Pluss bishop would never let him mess with it.” Mikey said. Tracker wiggled out of his arms and began searching through Donnie’s drores. 

 

“Found one.” She exclaimed holding up a small green ‘turtle tracker’ as Mikey had coined years before. 

 

“We need bait, something Bishop couldn't resist.” Leo took off to rifle through Don’s lab. 

 

He sprinted back seconds later holding a silver rectangle with three glowing octagons on the top. 

 

“Better not be some super turtle-zaper. Handing anything over to that wackjob ticks me off.” Raph complained standing behind them arms folded as she pried off the back. The wires inside were a confusing jumble of high tech looking stuff and bits that were most definitely scrap addons from Donatello. She buried the tracker inside were it wouldn't be found till bishop disassembled the whole device. 

 

“Why don’t just stake it out and beat the shell outta whoever shows up? We could make ‘em tell us where Don is.”

 

“Too risky.” Leo said “If he got away we would never get this close again.”

 

Raphael growled and left. Distantly, Tracker could hear the muffled thump and squeak as he worked over the bad in the main room. The three packed the little device in a small box, Mikey wrapping it in an excess of tape. 

 

“That should be enough.” Tracker said putting a hand on his. 

 

“This is going to work.This is going to work” Leo repeated to himself and the group. “Tracker will drop it off. One of us will keep an eye on the computer. Mikey, you're on stake out with her.”

 

“All right!” Mikey said sweeping her up in his arms and over his shoulder like a bag of rice. 

“This is serious Michelangelo.” Leo admonished. “If anything goes wrong I want you to take this guy down before he can tip them off were coming.” He swiveled his head around the room and raised his voice so it could be heard around the lair. “Raph, you follow Tracker on the shellcycle.” 

 

“Whatever.” Came the reply from across the house. 

  
  


The computer flashed  _ “Match Compleet”  _ across the screen. Tracker turned back around and flipped through the results. That Lock-shop-guy wasn’t lying, There was hundreds of them. Most had NewYork billing addresses but the other made her nervous. One even had a Washington DC address, that didn’t bode well for the government funded organisation they were labeling as chief suspects. 

 

“How are we going to narrow it down?” Leo asked tracing a finger down the list of digits and addresses.

 

“Process of elimination, These three first ones are private address and not a PO box or business. The rest you need a little social engineering. This may take a while.” Tracker opened the the browser and typed in ‘ _baby crying 3 hours’_ , setting it to high volume and flipped open her burner phone. 

 

“Hello this is MasterCard how may I help you?”

 

“Hello, I am calling in regard to my credit card ending in 8900. -Oh honey please stop crying mommies here.- I believe there has been a mix up. I need to know where the last three purchases, -oh loveydove I’ll be right there-…” The screeching continued unabated. Her friend’s eyes wide and hands clasped over earholes.

 

“I would love to help ma'am, If I could just get the SSN of the primary card holder?”

 

“Oh dear, this is my husband’s card. I have the billing address but -Honey can you take care of Martha? Honey? Oh dear.- Hold on. I haven’t been able to log on to the online account. Is your system down again? I’m so sorry about calling about something so silly.” 

 

“That’s no problem ma'am, I can bring up your account with just the address.” The man sounded distressed.

 

“Oh thank you so much. -HONEYPANTS PLEASE GET MARTHA SHE’S CRYING AND I'M ON THE PHONE!- It’s 4200 Wisconsin Ave NW, Washington, DC 20016 #306.”

 

“All right ma’am, looks like your last three purchases were from a lock shop in New York, A New York liquor store and a pack of paper doilies, online in bulk.  Would you like me to mark this card compromised and send these purchases to our fraud department?” 

 

“No, thank you young man. You have been very helpful. If you don’t mind I need to let you go and have a bit of a word with.” She glanced at the computer screen to read the name, “ _ Mr _ . Houser.”

 

“No problem ma'am you have a wonderful day.” He answered a bit too quickly, anxious to get her off the phone.

 

“You too, and thank you again.” She hung up and paused the video of the screeching baby. “Cross that one off. That leaves what? 50?”

 

“Oh, shell.” Mikey grounded uncovering his ears. “How long is that going to take?”

 

Splinter had joined them at the desk looking very much put out. “I look forward to your explanation for this my child. I did not anticipate  my grandchildren screaming quite so much, or in fact, any grandchildren since I last saw you a few hours ago.”

 

“Sorry, sir. It’s an old scamming trick. Play something unpleasant enough and people will do anything to make you go away. You guys might want to leave. This is going to go on for, about three hours.”

“Indeed,” He said with the characteristic precise enunciation of his displeasure. 

 

Leonardo came to her rescue. “Sensei, this is Tracker’s specialty. If she says playing hours of crying babies will help us get Donnie back…”

 

“No, no you are right I apologize. My daughter.” He patted her hand and turning to leave the room. “But perhaps I will take a walk, a long, long walk.”

 

The boys shuffled out. Mikey trailing behind, casting longing looks back at Tracker. She winked at him as he left and he smiled, pulling his hands together in a heart and mouthing sweet nothings till his head disappeared around the corner. She chuckled and turned back to her work. 

 

All that time spent in coerced labor in Brazil suddenly seemed lighter in her chest.  _ If it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t be of any use now.  _ Perhaps it had been worth it. If this got her husband his brother back in one piece, she would admit her painfully catholic Nana was right about one thing. God didn’t just work in mysterious ways. If he did exist he was drunk off his ass throwing spaghetti at a wall and making plans out of what he thought the shapes looked like.  

 

The werewolf wife of a turtle mutant was using espionage tactics, learned in the Brazilian special ops cable, to save the supergenius turtle brother from an evil shadow government agency, named after a chess piece.  _ Well, when you say it like that it sounds stupid.  _

 

In three hours she slashed the list down to three possible New York addresses. All three appeared to be serious businesses but none order mundane things like printing toner or staples. She heaved an internal sigh and began the long process of accessing company records. If she was going to guess, all three were shades for one thing or another. If she was doing legitimate detective work she would just hand them all over to the IRS investigations and wash her hands of it. She wasn't just hunting any old shades this time. She was on the trail of one precise shadow so she had to be sure. 

 

The first two looked like basic cash laundering. Most likely for drugs. The money was always charged in large amounts and fairly regularly. The last one looked promising. Company name B.C.T.T. It took a substantial amount of digging to even find what it stood for,  ‘Black and Coat Trading Technology’. This guy was unbelievable. She was going to enjoy watching his teeth get kicked in.

 

“I found it!” She yelled as she heard footsteps in the main room. 

 

They sounded a bit heavy for the guys.  She pulled away from the computer monitor unbending her back and letting some of the stress ease out as her skin in the form of fur pooling and changed over her. Allowing it to ripple over her skin as it pleased. When it settled she was surprised to see LeatherHead staring at her form the entrance of the Lair. 

 

“You have news of Donatello's whereabouts?” He asked eyes brightened with hope. Had anyone remembered to tell the poor guy he could stop swimming around the harbor? 

 

“Ya, here let me get you a towel big guy, you look exhausted.” She talked as she scrambled to make up for the oversight. “The boys should be back any second. I was just about to call them though. The bastard is calling his front company BlackCoat can you believe that? Tea?” She sat him in front of the radiator the guys sometimes used to get their body temps up when the reptile in them started slowing down. 

 

“He is nothing if not overconfident,” LeatherHead growled. She forced a mug with tea bag into his clenched fists and began adding sugar and hot water. 

 

“If he has injured Donatello in any way…”

 

“Hey, it’s ok. Were gonna get him back big guy.” She soothed, but she knew Tea and heat wasnt going to do anything until his best friend was back at home. It was now all but confirmed that the man who had tortured him for years had captured Don. She remembered the first time she had seen that photo of her brother.

 

“You- you are right. Tracker, I do not know how to express- you and I have never truly spoken togeather but Michelangelo praises your skill. You have brought others home to their families after a longer absence?” He was 12 feet tall and seemed lost as a puppy in time square.  

 

“He better speak highly of his wife, or domestic bliss will be a lot less blissful. Did he tell you who the first person I set out to find was?”

 

“No, he did not. Though he did mention that he met you when you were searching for your brother.”

 

“I met him right after I found my brother. I started searching for Doc a year after his disappearance. I had no experience, no money, and none of the tec that Don- that we have access to. I didn’t even know what country he was in. It took me four years but I found him alive. Were going to bring Donnie back.” She took the big lizard’s hand in hers. God he was shaking, not enough to notice without touching him. Still, it reminded her of the tremors her brother still suffered through whenever something reminded him of his time in captivity. “I swear, we will find him. I promise.”  

 

He seemed to take this to heart and let go of his terror somewhat. He was still bunched as a bouquet of springs but he wasn’t about to come apart at the seams. 

 

“You speak passionately of saving my son. Did I hear correctly that you have another link to finding him in the flesh?” Her father in law’s hand rested on her shoulder and she had to focus on not jumping out of her skin. He moved so silently. She hadn't been paying enough attention to smell him even partially shifted. How did he  _ do _ that?

 

“Yes Sir. We have an address. I’ll call the boys. We get Don back tonight.” 

 

Leo and Mikey came back first. Crowding around the computer monitor. 

“It’s on 2nd Ave by the Queensboro Bridge,” Leo said. “Ok, I have a plan…”

 

Tracker carried the little box under her duffle coat with one hand. The other looped in the wrist strap as the R train made its sharp turn onto 59th. She got off at Lexington. Behind her Casey Jones also disembarked. He shadowed her up to street level and out of the Black tile front of the station. Above them, two green and white lights cast ugly shadows on the ground.

 

Clouds covered the sky slowly causing dusk to come early.  Raph would be coming up FDR on the shellcycle, LeatherHead swimming beside him, along up the East River. April had stayed behind to coordinate from the lair and it was her voice Tracker heard in her ear. 

 

“Casey cross the street. You don’t want to look like you’re following her.”

“Whatever you say toots.” He mumbled both from behind her and from her earpiece. 

 

Tracker’s hair was standing stiff.  _ Storms coming.  _ She could feel the pressure of the air and smell the rain still holding back from falling till dark was truly upon them. 

 

“Toots?” April questioned.

 

“Guys, focus,” Leo said. 

 

The boys would be coming from the other side and meeting on the building across the street. It was amazing how much traffic you could avoid by driving under the streets. 

She crossed at the tram station, passing normal New York places. A nail salon, a sandwich shop. The building was a normal post shop. She supposed even secret government organization needed a forwarding address. 

 

“Do you think they get fashion magazines?” Mikey asked in her ear. “Or like secret agent monthly?”

 

She blocked them out and slipped into the post store.  The electronic bell chimed. It was brightly lit, contrast to the blue-black sky outside. The queue was short, only two people ahead of her. They bought their cards and sent their packages. 

 

“Over here lady.” The young woman behind the desk prompted her, smacking what smelled like nicotine gum. 

 

“Hello, this is a delivery for box number 600. It’s very important they retrieve it immediately. Is there any way you can contact them to let them know it’s here?”

 

“Look, lady we don’t call unless the box gets full-” Tracker placed a 50 on the counter and set the box down on top. 

 

“Well would you look at that. Way to big to fit in the box. Gonna have to give ‘em a call.”

 

“Thank you kindly. You make sure they get it tonight, ok?” Tacker called over her  Shoulder.

“Sure lady.” The counter girl responded sliding the box off the counter so the bill landed in her hand.

 

The  electronic bell chimed again as she walked out. Across the street, she met Casey's glance and kept walking. Behind the temporary construction walls across the street, Mikey waited for her. 

 

“Everyone in position?” Leo asked over the coms.

 

“All set Leo,” Casey said keeping his eyes on the post store's door. 

“Me ‘an LH ‘er hanging out under the bridge,” Raphael reported.

“Mike and Tracker are covering the north. Where are you, Leo?” April asked. 

 

“On top of the church to the south. How long should this take?” It took Tracker a moment to realize he had switched from speaking to April to her.

 

“I’ve only pulled this trick once before, and that was part of a scam an old man in  a Rio de Janeiro charity hospital taught me.” 

 

She heard Raph grumble over the com. “Well this better get us something.” 

 

They waited. Casey and Raph started to tell dirty jokes over the com. Tracker’s ears were starting to hurt from April’s offended rebuttals in #C sharp. 

 

“-A misdemeanor, cause, the more I miss it, da meaner I get!” Casy finished.

 

 Raph had actually started to chuckle at a few of the worst ones. Leo hadn’t admonished them yet. Raph needed Casey’s particular way of lightening the mood. 

 

He was the most protective of the brothers and Donnie’s disappearance had pushed his anger farther than Tracker had seen since the night Razor had nearly killed Mikey. The brother’s told stories about Raph’s temper but Tracker had only seen it in the flesh a few times. She was honestly looking forward to watching him burn up all that rage punching Bishop's face inside out. 

 

Mike tapped out a beat on the half-built building’s roof. She wiggled under his arm and he incorporated her head into his drumming routine, only slightly gentler than the rest of his makeshift instruments. 

 

“I see something,” Leo said. Mikey stilled instantly and Raph’s growling laughter broke off. 

 

“Ya, I see him too Leo,” Casey commented. Tracker could see Casey pacing a block away but she couldn't tell who they were looking at or what was so suspicious about him. 

 

“It’s Fin,” Leo said.

“How the shell-?” Raph asked. Tracker was now completely in the dark. The redhead bulky man that had just gone through the post office door looked strong, for a human, but in no way a match for the turtles. 

 

“The package is moving,” April told them over the com. 

 

Fin, as Leo had called him, slipped out the post office door and started toward Mikey and her location before getting into a black Royce and snapping the door closed. 

“Was that a Wraith?” She whispered to Mikey.  _ Why do the bad guys get nice cars? _

 

He made an “I-don’t-know” sound and they bounded after him. 

“He’s headed toward the river. Raph, LeatherHead.” 

 

“Got ‘em bro,” Raph said. Tracker could hear the rumble of his motorcycle start up. Tracker and Mikey leaped building to building till they ran out on the edge of York. 

 

“He drove into the Rockefeller Universit,” She told the guys.

“I've still got ‘em,” Casy said running through on foot. “Ummmmm… where’d he go?”

 

“Shit!” Raph cussed over the com. “You let him get away?”

 

“Guys calm down we still have the tracker. April where does the computer say he is?”

 

“According to this thing he’s under the east river, half way to Roosevelt Island.” 

 

“What? That’s not fair!” Casey yelled. 

 

“Excuse me sir? Sir? HEY MAN YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!” She heard over Casey’s line as he was escorted away from the university gates. 

 

“So there must be a secret tunnel from there to the island,” Leo said

 

Her husband began to sing softly to himself. “Secret tunnel, secret tunnel.” 

“Shut up Mikey.” Came Raph’s response. “Me an LH ‘ell swim.”

 

“Alright, so will we. Casey and Tracker you should take the subway.”

 

“Ya Sure.”

“Understood.”

 

Mikey hugged her and they split. Him, vanishing like a silent green shadow, her like a slightly arthritic hippo. She jumped down the last story landing hard on the asphalt.  

 

“You ok there T?” Casey asked

“Yah, I’m fine. Let’s go. April, is he across the river yet?” The storm clouds had thickened above them. The entire city charged like a lightning rod. She and Casey made their way underground and boarded the F train. People pressed around her. She was glad of the idiot at her back, this many strangers made her jumpy. 

 

The train jerked to a stop. The smell of city rain hit her as soon as the doors opened. They climbed back up to street level. 

 

In the desert or jungle rain cleanses, washes everything new, in cities it just mixes trash around and makes it smell worse. The rush of people swept past them and out into the downpour. It was falling in sheets.  Across the river, the New York skyline was one enormous blob of light and color. 

 

“---eperd.” April’s voice crackled in her ear. 

“Can --- -epeate that April?” Leo asked.

 

“The Chapel of --- -ood Shepherd, the signals --ty weak. He m-st still -- ----ground-”

 

“April?” Casey asked finger in his ear. 

 

The static was too loud. She pulled the com out of her ear. 

 

“Dahm thing.” Casy cussed ripping his up as well. 

 

“It’s this storm. I’m going to go in. Try not to look too conspicuous.” Tracker said pulling Casey under the awning, out of the rain. 

 

“Who’s conspicuous?” 

They darted across the open yard and under the brick covering the chapel's doors from the rain. She gave them a tug but they were locked tight. 

 

Above the clouds, thunder cracked. She flipped open her lock picks and got the heavy wooden doors to swing inwards. Tracker scented the air, there was nothing off about it. Just mortar from some repairs. She pulled the penny light out of her pocket. 

 

“What are we ‘even looking for here?” Casey asked. 

 

They moved along the wall around the chapel and into the back rooms. Wind pushed at the stained glass windows. The sound clattered, echoing around the empty church. She walked down the hallway, carpet muffled her footsteps. 

 

“Should we go back and wait for the guys?” She asked under her breath. There was no reply. Turning around the weak beam of the flashlight not even reaching the back walls. “Casy?”

 

_ Not good _ . 

 

No kidding. She let the change leak out, trying to keep her shape mostly human with only the enhanced senses and strength. Slowly the dark walls came into view. There was no one she could see but someone was definitely there. 

 

“Come out, come out.” She growled, shutting off the penny light completely. Below her, the floor shuttered in time to a roll of thunder. The gaping room of the chapel illuminated for a moment by lighting. 

 

Tracker retreated farther into the church. She opened a door to a clergyman’s office. The desk at the far end made of some heavy hardwood. She pushed it in front of the door. 

“Can anyone hear me?” She asked pressing the com back up to her ear. “Casey disappeared. Where are you guys? Mikey?” Just static. She couldn't smell anything but mortar. It was stronger in the office. She could see where the wall had been repaired with a slightly lighter colored brick.

 

They were so close. Somewhere below was the man who picked up her little present, and her brother-in-law as well. She should have filled it with C4. She had half a mind to just start digging. 

 

There was a bang at the door and Tracker jumped. Two pistols out, she slunk into the shadows, pressing up against the wall. Another bang sent the desk hurtling away from the door.

 

“Try again. No one heard that down in  _ Joisey," _  Came a welcome taunting voice. 

“Mikey! Raph!” Tracker whispered from the shadows. 

 

“Hunny-pup!” Michelangelo called, barreling in. 

“Where’s Casey?” Asked Raph looking around the small room. 

 

“I don’t know. He just disappeared. Weren't you supposed to be with LH? And Mikey where did Leo go?” 

 

“I pulled ‘em out of the river after LH disappeared. He was swim’en around looking for Leo,” Raphael said, scared and angry. Four of the little band were missing. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren't alone. The stress of keeping her form balanced, so close to human but not was starting to hurt her eyes. They rolled back and Tracker gave up, letting her form change to the half balance state she preferred for fighting. 

 

“What’s a matter angel-cake?” Mikey asked petting down Tracker’s fur from its odd-angled on-end thing it was doing. 

 

“Something doesn't smell right.” She crept along beside the wall. Outside cold rain was falling in heavy sheets. Her finger traced along the wall, it was old brick and the new line began where it had been repaired. 

 

“It’s a fake wall.” She said. 

“I got it,” Raph said pulling out one of his Sai and hacking at the mortar. It chipped away in a cloud of white dust. 

 

Something brushed against the fur on Tracker’s arm. She reached out on instinct and grabbed a fist full of nothing that felt like fabric. She hauled it backward. Papers blew up in a cloud where something completely invisible landed. 

 

“What the shell is that?” Raph asked. Turning from the progress he was making uncovering a metal door. 

 

“Dude there had to be like, a switch or something. Haven’t you ever seen scooby-do? Mikey said pulling his nunchucks and spinning them around his head and shoulders. 

 

Tracker pulled her knife out of her back scabbard. 

 

“So this is the thing that grabbed everyone?” Raph asked. 

 

“More than one,” Tracker responded trying to sniff them out. She had smelled that before, Ozone and one particular human smell. “One of them is the guy that took Donnie. Right-” She struck out and felt her knife scrape something. A tiny spot of red appeared, hovering in front of her where she had sliced. “Found you. Three total I can smell them.”

 

Raph engaged the figure stabbing wildly at the air. Mikey had backed up till he stood between her and the door. 

 

“You wanna find that switch now T?” Raph yelled, doubling over as something crashed into his plastron. Ok, ok. Switch. Where would an overconfident bastard who likes kidnapping and torturing people because look different put a switch?

 

_ She was going to skin him with her teeth. _ Not helpful _.  _

 

Hanging to the left of the window was a small wooden crucifix. She twisted it, and good deal of nothing happened. So she pulled it off the wall. It was a regular wooden crucifix. She chucked it near Mikey hoping to hit one of the invisible guys beating the shit out of her husband. There was a thunk.

“Nice shot hun!” 

 

She grumbled pulling at things on the walls. Nothing was working. She looked up. The church was old, very old and she was short but for most people the ceiling in this room would feel low. She reached up over the molding over the door and ran her hand along it. A flick, the stone slid back and away leaving them with a steel door and a number pad. 

 

“Oh for the love of-” Raph, swept his leg in a full circle around himself and stepped on what fell down, kicking it a few times to be certain. 

 

“I miss Donnie!” Mikey yelled from the front of the room . He had managed to push both fighters through the door and was keeping them at bay with hot nunchuck fury. 

 

“You're the best we got T.” Raph prompted. “Not to -ung! Rush you or anything. But hurry up!”

 

Three by three keyboard. What was she supposed to do, sniff out the code? If father was here he would just rip the damn thing out of the wall. She struck the door half out of frustration half to see how thick it was. About three inches by the sound of it. Outside the window, lightning lit the sky.  _ Right, magnet lock.  _

 

She wedged her knife under the keypad and pried up. Her knife bent but the wires were exposed. 

“Mikey! Grappling hook!” She yelled. It sailed over to her and she uncoiled the cable inside plunging the hook end into the door’s keypad. There was an outlet a few feet away. This was going to hurt. She ripped the cable apart and stuck both ends into the socket. There were sparks and the fuse blew immediately. The overload pulsed across the keypad. Tracker heaved on the door. It budged but she simply wasn’t strong enough to move it. 

 

“Raph! Mike!” The strongest of the brothers appeared behind her and pulled the whole thing so hard the brick around it began to crumble. 

 

“Yo! Mikey, we're going.”

“Coming!” He called landing two more strikes on the invisible opponents. 

 

They dashed down what seemed to Tracker like a very wide air duct. Smooth metal on either side heading downward at a sharp angle. 

 

“Whooooo” Her husband called behind them. She turned in time to see Mikey flat on his shell going down the hallway like a water slide. 

 

“AAAAGH!” Raph yelled as well, before the flying dork crashed into his legs and sent them both sliding. Tracker landed on top of Mikey. Or perhaps he had caught her on purpose. It was hard to tell sometimes.

 

She couldn't smell the invisible guys anymore but they definitely knew they were coming now. The only thing is if they could find the others before they were moved or got enough of those guys they couldn’t fight off. 

 

She wondered how far the chain of command was planned out. With Leo, and Don missing was angry Raph in charge? Or clumsy Mikey? Tracker decided she would ask Leo after this was all done and not worry about it after they finished sliding down the hallway. Then they hit a wall. 

 

“Get ‘yer foot out of my face Mikey!” Raph yelled righting himself. 

“We're in,” Mikey said imitating a secret agent laying on his back. Tracker just groaned and helped Mikey up. 

 

“Let’s move,” said Raph picking the next hallway at random. Tracker couldn’t smell anything down here. It was all metal and bleach. She followed her scary-angry brother-in-law feeling more than a little blind. 

 

There was a low droning that she figured was an alarm. She was lagging behind till Mikey grabbed her hand and nearly lifted her off her feet like a kite as they ran.

 

“Any Idea where we're going?” She yelled forward. 

 

“Finding Casey, LH and our brothers. Then beating the shit out of whoever made this funhouse.”  _ Angry Raph as pack leader then _ . This was gonna go great. 

 

They turned another corner and were met by a line of men with guns. 

“Gah!” Raph dodged back around the corner pulling Mikey and by extension Tracker back. “Least we know we're go’en the right way.” He smirked pulling his Sai out of his belt. 

 

“We got this bro!” Mikey said putting his fist up for Raph to knock with his own.

“I am not sure we have anything!” Tracker yelled after her family as they rushed a line of blasters. 

 

“Oh what the hell.” She grumbled slipping on her knuckledusters and pulling out pistols. She shot into the fray as carefully as she could. Her husband was leaping along with his brother, from floor to ceiling and back again. She got one of the masked guards in the leg and another state through the white face coverings before they realized she was there. She dodged back around the corner as a pool of blaster fire shot past her. 

 

“Freeken laser pistols.” 

 

She hadn't had time to make any plasti or C4, kinda hard to take that on a plane to the USA. She sighed and shot out the lights behind them, dodged back around the corner and shooting a line down the fluorescent lights behind the laser pistol guys. 

“Watch it!” Raph called back covering his face from shrapnel.

 

Holstering the pistols she went to work in the dark hallway. Mike flipped one over to her and she dispatched him with a punch to the jaw. Raph was leaping wall to wall taking out two or three at a time but they kept getting back up. He kicked one in the head and he stopped squirming. 

“Dude!” Mikey said to the guy he had just finished who was now crawling to his feet with two broken arms “Dude. Stay down.”

“What’re these guys made out’a?” 

 

“I don’t think they can feel pain,” Tracker replied trying to dance out of the way of another guard. She punched him as hard as she could in the temple and he crumpled to the ground. 

 

Half were down permanently, Mikey’s chucks swinging into heads with pleasant hollow sounds. 

 

“Come on,” Raph yelled breaking from the fight and dashing down the corridor. 

“We don’t even know where we're going!” Tracker followed falling into step with the two boys. 

“If Don was here he’d hack into the matrix or som’tin and get us a map,” Raph said looking expectantly towards her. 

“The mainframe? Do I look like Donnie? No. I do, one thing, Raphael. What's my name? Guess what I do, I track things!” 

 

“Then  _ track _ where they put everyone, then an exit!” 

 

“If we survive I am going to kill you Raph!” 

 

“Ya? Get in line sister.”

 

“Um, guys?” Mikey said hooking a hand around his brother’s and his wife’s belts, pulling them to a stop. “Look.” 

 

“Eh, would ya look at that,” Raph said pointing to the map plastered on the smooth silver wall. He put his finger on the bright red star in the bottom left quadrant. “You’er here.” 

 

“That's, incredibly helpful,” Tracker said tracing the path they would need to take to get to the ‘subject containment’ area. 

 

There was a subtle change of taste in the air. Instincts spun her on her heels and had her pulling both the boys down to the floor in an moment. Raphael must have sensed it too because he covered her and his brother with his body. Scraps of metal clanged against his shell as the wall above them exploded.

 

“My apologies, The base layout can be a bit confusing.” She blinked. This guy smelled wrong. He looked like a human man, early 40s black hair and a sunglasses in a suit and tie, but he had wormwood in his smile. 

 

“Bishop,” Raph growled spinning his sai one in each hand. 

 

“It is good to see you again, Raphel. Your brother informed me of your activities since we last met. Congratulations. I look forward to taking it apart to discover exactly how such an abomination was possible.” 

 

“What is he talking about Raph?” Mikey asked getting to his feet. 

 

“And the dumb one. Is this all that's left of you? I have to wonder how you ever found my base.”

 

Mikey was hauling her to her feet. Raph standing in front, body vibrating with rage. The man, Bishop, caught her eyes and she felt pinned. He wasn’t human. He smelled like skin preserved in salt and formaldehyde. 

 

“Ah, you must have helped then miss. I wonder what you will tell me.” He took a single step forward and Tracker felt something with too many legs crawl down her back.  _ He’s a hunter.  _

 

Mike pulled his chucks out. 

“Don’t” Raph said, his brother paused. “This joker’s mine, go find Donnie.” 

 

Mikey pulled her away, down towards the route she had traced moments before. Tracker couldn't help looking over her shoulder as they ran. Raph’s back to them as the fighting began. 

 

“Raph’s gonna be fine," Mike said spinning them down another corridor. “He’s a lot better than when we were kids.”

 

The smell of bleach lightened as they got closer. Trackerbypasst two traditional lock gates and Mikey took out a squadron with nar a word of joking lightheartedness. It was scary when he was like this.Michelangelo the ninja replaced Mikey the joker when the chips were down. Tracker never liked it when the chips were down. 

 

“There’s something this way.” Tracker slid to a stop, pulling Mikey along with her. A breeze drifted around her carrying a distinctive reptilian scent and blood.   
“Come on.”

 

“What is it, who do you smell girl?” Mikey asked. Well, he could be serious sometimes.

“Can’t tell, too much blood.”

 

There was another gates at the end of the hall. She bent down to pick it but stopped short, something was scraping against the other side. 

 

Did that guy have some sort of monster caged down here with her family? It wouldn’t surprise her. She pressed an ear to the door. There was something growling on the other side as it scraped away at the wall. A tiny click, she scrambled back. The low droning of the alarm became painful and shrill as the door slid open.

 

“-open yet!” 

 

A familiar shelled shape silhouetted in the red emergency lights fell forward out of the open door. She recovered from her shock in time to catch him. 

 

“Donatello?” She said trying to heave him up. Should have known, Bishop was a moron if he thought he could hold any of them when they were together. 

 

“Door’s open Leo.” He groaned into her chest. It was hard to see in the red lights but he looked torn up, like pieces of his shell had been cut out. 

“Look out!” Mikey yelled rushing past her. He swept his chucks over his head and knocked the three silver-bodied robots off of his older brother. They fought, backing up towards the doorway where Tracker stood. A wall of sliver bodies encircling the little group. She didn’t see Leatherhead or Casey. How long could Raphael hold off alone? 

 

“There’s too many!” Leo shoulded. Tracker pulled Donatello into her side with one hand and drew her pistol. She fired at any that broke from the mass to attack, hoping to give the guys space to retreat. They pulled back till the crowd was bottlenecked in the doorway. The robots didn’t seem intelligent. Given enough space or time they could probably outsmart them. They weren't overflowing with either resource at the moment so they just fought against the hurd till arms burning and bullets expended they were pushed further down the hallway. 

 

“Dude are we fighting zombie-robots?” 

“Technically. Yes.” Donnie could barely move. Once Tracker dragged him out of the dim lit room she could see the extent of the damage Bishop had done. There we indeed squares of his shell missing. Surgically precise holes, most likely to allow access to examine his organs. Normally he would be talking up a storm. Explaining what they were up against, and finding some brilliant way out of it. At the moment he seemed to be focusing on not passing out. 

 

“We need to get away from these things.” Leo said slicing downwards and cleaving one of them in half. This was not her area. Why did she always end up in fights like these? Back to the wall and surrounded by things wanting to kill her family. There didn’t seem to be any end to the humanoid robots, they just kept pouring out of the doorway. One landed a good hit on Michelangelo's chest sending him sprawling. Leo twisted to see his brother sail down the hallway. 

 

_ Out of the way.  _

 

She set Donnie down as gently as she could and ran forwards sliding to a stop next to Leo. Her knife was bent but still effective and she sliced her way through a few before Mikey recovered enough to rejoin the fight. 

 

With the boys mostly holding their own Tracker griped her knife between her teeth like some kind of dog-pirate and focused the change into her fingertips. Long claws pushed through ripping the bed under her nails. She dug them into the side of the wall and attempted a trick the ninja had tried to teach her years ago. She pulled herself above the fighting, clawing her way towards the door. Tracker dropped down into the crowd spinning with her knife trying to clear space for her to work. Far behind her Mikey was yelling something and she heard the tempo of the fighting increase. They would tire themselves out trying to reach her. The door was electrical and only slightly lighter than the one Raph had pulled open to get them in. She dug her claws into the mettle and pulled. The hydraulics did not want to budge. 

 

Robotic hands reached at her from every direction, beating her with arms like crowbars. She stabbed and sliced at the ones reaching through the door but the ones already outside it had half turned from fighting the boys and began pummeling her as well. Pain shot through her as she felt the bruises mount. Something was going to break soon. Slowly the door began to slide closed. She pushed air out through her nose, trying to focus past pain as Splinter had taught her. It wasn’t moving fast enough. One landed a hard knocked just below her eye. She let go long enough to stab the thing through the throat and left her knife there. Her face felt wet from tears, snot or blood, she didn’t really care.  _ No more distractions.  _

 

It was half closed now and she shifted to pushing it with her shoulder. With no more coming through, the turtles were actually gaining ground, pushing further towards her. When they got close enough Mikey sprinted through the ones left. Leaving his brother to finish them off and helped her pull the door the rest of the way. 

 

“Whow.” He swept an arm across his brow. “Way to go Hunny-pup. That was awesome.”

“I know.” She collapsed against the door holding her blackened eye and probably fractured ribs. The door thumped as the robots behind it pounded it with their mettle fists. “How’s Donnie?” She asked Leo, examining his injured brother who seemed to have lost the fight with unconsciousness. 

 

“He’ll be better when we get out of here. Did those invisible things get everyone else?”

 

“LH and Casey, Raph is fighting Bishop, we gotta find them and get out. You going to be ok Scruffy?” Mikey fussed over her.

 

Leo made and agreement sound as he wiped blood off Donnie's face. “Come on bro. Stay with us ok?” Behind closed eyes Don made a low groaning sound of agnogment. Leo pulled him up careful not to pull his injured shell. “All right then. Which way?”

 

Tracker looked back the way they had come. If she shifted now she might not have enough left in her to fight if they ran into trouble. Was it worth it to try to find LH or Casey's sent? This place was filled with things trying to kill them, every wrong turn leading them further into the trap. She didn’t have a choice. 

 

Her hand tightened around Mikey’s as she shifted fully until he was left holding the paw of a massive dog. She pushed herself upwards even as her injuries reinstated themselves in the new form. At least she would heal faster like this.  

 

There was no trace of them in the hallway. She ran ahead, scenting the air. The smell of bleach, blood and the sickening scent of the preservative that man was filled with warred inside her head. She could smell her husband and his brothers behind her like moss and home cooking. Leatherhead would be the easiest to track, she focused trying to find the scent of his lab mixed with the lotion he used to ease the discomfort of his shedding scales. Ode de Alligator. 

_ Find pack, joke later.  _

 

She pulled up from the floor having caught a distinctive Cocoa-concoction mix on the air. He hadn't come this way but he was close. She pushed her bruised body into a sprint, racing around corners and trusting that the boys could keep up. 

 

As they got closer she began hear a roar that could belong to an enraged alligator, or a broken gas generator. Just like when she had found her brother. LeatherHeads’ voice was deeper and louder than even the one form that night. 

 

Behind her she heard Donnie mumble something into Leo’s back, and the roaring got louder. Hopefully Casy would be with him. They would never get out the way they came. She needed to find the hidden tunnel, would it be on the lowest level?  

 

She slowed enough to let the boys catch up. It was hard to tell how loud the roaring would be to them. Leo could definitely hear it. His eyes were squinted in concentration, trying to keep up his speed without jostling his injured brother. Probably trying puzzle out the outcome of Raph’s and Bishop’s fight at the same time. Tracker sympathised. They hadn't been stopped for a while, had Bishop drawn all his troops to the top levels? Was Raph already swamped or was the fowl-smelling black-ops goon laying them in wait, expecting them to try to exit through the Church. 

 

The chemical smell grew substantially stronger. Around the last corner was a simple, clean lab door. No lock, just polished steel and plastic. Don raised his head from Leo’s shoulder. “LeatherHead.” There was no doubt who was making that sound. It was like standing in front of a base speaker, It rattled Tracker to her cour.

 

She had to wait for Mikey to open the door. Trying to pull handles with her mouth was both unsanitary and embarrassing. He pulled open the steel door and she followed as he walked through the plastic sheets. The smell of chemicals burned in her nose. It was a lab alright. Four desks of hard white plastic, cabinets of milky-semi-clear material over every wall, every wall but the one in front of them. 

 

Back to the wall and upside down, hanging from chains on his legs, Leatherhead was clawing and thrashing like a thing possessed. Mikey was already at his side trying to soothe him but the enormous Alligator was lost in a world his own. Mikey got a long but superfishal gash along his plastron for all his calm words. 

 

She heard the sound of Leo’s blade being pulled form a sheath. Her eyes widened and she turned, surprised to her alpha. Don had slumped off his brother's back and swiped one of his blades. He limped to his friend and with strength that Tracker wouldn’t have guessed at, sliced both chains holding LH above the ground.

 

There was an enormous crash as he fell to the floor. Still roaring he turned on Donatello who stood before him, grip on the sword slipping. It rang like a bell on the white tile floor splattered with blood. She traced the lines up his body, he was roaring with his mouth closed. It wasn’t simply muzzled, it had what looked like an enormous staple through his snout. She and Leo broke out of shock at the same moment and began to sprint to Don’s side. 

 

“It’s ok Big guy.” Don said as LH’s enormous hand reached out and covered Don’s face. She could hear Mikey scream something. Plans coursed through her head but none seemed viable, she knew Leo was thinking along the same lines. How could they take down enraged Leatherhead without hurting him? Don was already injured, he could be ripped apart in an instant. 

 

Leatherhead pulled Donatello toward him and then simply collapsed, sprawling on top of him. She reached him not knowing if she should be relived. Leo was pushing the enormous reptile off his brother, practically digging through mounds of muscle and scales. 

 

“It’s ok. Gonna be alright.” She could hear Don say even as Leo pulled him out from under his friend. The staple in his snout was as wide as her human hand. And nearly a foot long. Mikey pulled his enormous head into his lap and stroked his scales trying to comfort him before they tried removing the metal spikes embedded in his mouth. 

 

_ Burn this place like a ring of hell.  _ Tracker backpedaled and left them to it. She wouldn’t be much help bending and pulling those metal rods out of his mouth.She looked around the room and began to form a  _ plan _ . 

 

The chemicals were easy enough to find. It was getting to them without thumbs that was difficult. Finally she was able to push the pile of well-labled jars into a bag and grabbed the handles in her mouth. The boys had calmed down the reptile furry and cut the folded mettle so that all they needed to do was pull them out. LH beat them too it and pulled his jaws to the full razor filled opening, letting out a reverberating sound that made his earlier crys seem like a mewing kitten. He shook himself splattering the hanging plastic sheets with blood. 

 

She sat back on her haunches and watched the small group of her pack. Her husband was mostly uninjured standing between his friend and brothers. Don and 

Leatherhead had collapsed into each other, the big lizard’s eyes were still wild and wide. Leo was on alert, back to the the corner so he could keep the entire room in view. He glanced at her bag full of glass containers and lifted an eye ridge.  She pulled her mouth up into a wicked grin and the shift made a small clicking sound as the jars of chemicals moved in the bag. He understood and turned back to watching the entrances, giving his pack a few moments to recover. It was times like these, when she couldn’t explain herself in speech, that she was so glad of her new alpha’s unwavering trust.

 

The lab was the biggest room she had seen so far. She set the bag down next to the hug-puddle of LH, Don and Mike so she could do a bit of sniffing around.

 

Casey’s sent was present but light. Most likely a result of whoever caught him spending some time in the room  _ subduing  _ LeatherHead. 

  
  


Other than the staple and a few self inflicted scratches LH was mostly uninjured. Once he was calm and pulled himself to his feet he was able to carry Donie with no incoberence. Tracker pushed against his leg like a cat. He reached down with the hand not holding Don and patted her head understanding the efforts at comfort. She was almost the size of a normal dog to him.  Leo asked him if he knew where they had taken Casy but he had been too far gone to remember anything but red rage. Which left it up to her, again. 

  
  


The idiot’s sent was so faint it was difficult to trace. Leo had lifted her bag of jars and vials over his shoulder, freeing her to find the last member of the botched rescue team. They followed, her nose to the ground, moving much slower than when she had found LH’s trail. She wasn’t really focusing on her surroundings trusting that the guys would dispatch dangers she overlooked before she could notice them. The top of her head pressed against a cold metal wall. She pulled back from the trail to look up at the silver doors of an elevator. Leatherhead stood above her and with one hand sunk claws into the door and crumpled it like so much tinfoil. At that moment she heard a blessed sound. It was a war cry that could only belong to one masked idiot. 

 

“GUNGALA!” Yelled a punk, jumping from an open door above them and plummeting down the elevator shaft. Behind him a  **{SOMETHING}** of green followed in a more controlled descent. A blob of flesh colored arms and legs scrambled down the shaft after the pair. 

 

Raph caught his idiot friend with one hand and the side of the wall with the other. 

 

“Raph! Casey!” Leo yelled from the open lift door. 

 

“Leo! Catch.” He yelled back swinging Casy towards the lift door. 

 

“Raph what’re ya’ doin’!” Casey yelled just before he was let go and sent plummeting down the elevator shaft. Leo caught him of course but it was a far from graceful landing. The turtle brother fell after him and nearly flattened the rescue party. Far above them the multi-limbed monstrosity continued to clamber down from the darkness in a way Tracker was sure would feature in her worst dreams for years. 

 

“The hell you waiting for? Run!” Raph yelled sprinting down the hall. 

“What happened to never running from a fight?” Leo grumbled apparently remembering all the times he advised retreat, only to have Raph insist on sticking around. 

 

Mikey ran by her side. She didn’t need to turn to know they were losing ground. The thing’s smell of bruised skin choked the corridor. She needed to find the tunnel out of here and fast. Her husband fell behind as she pushed her bruised body to the front of the pack. They were twisting randomly down the hallways, backtracking. She glimpsed the door to the lab as she sprinted past out in front of Leo. He was running point, both swords out and eyes slitted in focus. The bag of chemicals slung over his shoulder. She tried to remember the map she had seen. 

 

There had been another lift. Where had it been? Leonardo, ever trusting, slowed enough for her to pull ahead. It was in the east corner near the river. The pack passed a gap in the wall and she had to scramble to a stop to turn down it. As she flipped around she got her first good look at the thing chasing them. It moved like a blob of flesh colored play-doh and a centipede had a love child. Arms and legs sprang in no logical organization, tripping over each other as it ran. The last things she noticed before turning down the corridor was its eyes, a twisted human face, eyes as green as hers, and red hair. 

 

The rest of her pack followed her. LeatherHead was still bleeding, as was Raph though she hadn't seen how serious his wounds were. The Lift was right where she had remembered seeing it on the map. 

 

As soon as he had seen the lift doors Leo had slowed to the back with Mikey. She gestured with her nose for LH to take Don down first. Raph looked between his brothers, now feet from engaging the monstrous thing and Don disappearing with Leatherhead down the elevator shaft. They hadn't exchanged a single word since they had found him. She wanted to reassure him that Don was still alive but she couldn’t do anything but bark at him. He seemed to understand that as “get a move on.” and jumped down after LH, Casey fallowing behind. 

 

It barreled over Leo and Mike. Her Alpha’s katana seemed more effective against this thing that she wasn’t sure even had bones in its body. She barked frantically. Its arms were like springs pulling thin and thick as it reached around. Her husband risked a glance at her as she bit one that came to close. It melted like liquid in her mouth and she spat it out in globs.

 

_ Don’t eat. Burn.  _

 

Her husband backed up behind his more effective brother adding another layer between her and that thing. She was still choking on the horrible taste of the thing and her limbs shook form pushing them so hard. As Doc would say they weren’t out of the woods yet. Leo was not holding against it. It had more reach and power than him and it seemed all he could do to keep it at blade length. Every cut he inflicted oozed together in moments. 

 

“We need a distraction! Mikey, smoke bomb!” 

 

Mikey pulled two out and threw them at the ground filling the corridor with purple smoke. Tracker had a brief moment to wonder why it always smelled like eggs when they used those before she felt her husband swing her legs over his shoulders and jump. She tried to stay on but as they descended she felt herself slip. Engulfed in the darkness of the lift she flipped end over end. 

 

Her heart paused in its beating and she simply couldn’t breath enough to scream. His arms clamped around her middle, as he caught her again. They slowed, his grappling hook’s decent function she guessed. The moment his feet touched the ground he put her down. Above them them the thing scrambled its oversized body into the cramped elevator shaft. 

 

_ Panic later _

 

She didn’t have time for a freak out but her body didn’t understand. Inside her head a voice screamed at her to get up and run but all she could do was wrap her body as far around Mikey’s as possible and shake. She hoped the others had gone in the right direction without her. They knew they were heading to out the tunnel right? Leo had to understand where she had been leading them. She hated not being able to talk, not being able to plan. The thing was getting closer. She wanted to be herself again. Mikey was petting down her fur even as she stared up at the thing coming towards them. 

 

“Hey T, you're ok. I love you. It’s ok. You're not a puppy pancake. Tracker? Can you move?” He didn’t sound scared just worried about her. “We have to leave hun.  _ Amara _ ?”

 

And like that she was her human self again, arms around his neck. The thing had almost made it down to the bottom level. It hung 15 feet above them, green eyes reflective like a cat’s. She pulled her eyes from it to Mikey’s big blue ones and felt her heart restart. Feet down and they were running. ‘Puppy pancake’ he had said. She used what little breath she had to snort at that. There was only one corridor so that was good. 

 

“We need to catch up to Leo.” She said pumping her legs, trying to not slow Mikey down any more than she already had. 

Her heart was making up for lost beats, she could feel it pounding in her ears. The corridor widened a bit into what looked like a very small subway station. One train sat on the rails. Leo was the only one not inside. He was standing in the train doors, eyes wide trying to gauge if they would make it before the thing caught up. 

 

“Leo! Bag!” Tracker yelled. He disappeared for a split second, wound up and tossed the whole thing to her. It would have missed if not for an extra bit of nimbleness on her husband’s part. He handed it to her and she stopped, rummaging through, and found the glass jar she wanted. She chucked the whole thing at the monster’s feet. White powder and glass spread across the floor, leeching off low white smoke. It stumbled across the pile and screamed, tripping over itself and rolling to a stop. She was pulled behind Mike into the train. 

 

Don was conscious, barely, sitting by Raph in the driver’s seat. 

 

“It's getting up guys.” Mikey said. 

“Can you get us moving Don?” Leo asked. 

 

Don groaned the affirmative and Leatherhead pulled a large lever on the side. The glass doors closed as the thing recovered and began lurching after them once again. 

 

Tracker sunk to her knees beside the black bag, still full of chemicals. 

 

She hadn't noticed she was naked till mike pulled her shirt out of the bag and put it over her. She smiled up at him and tried to shake off the shock. 

 

Pulling various jars out of the bag she began to mix till she had two, one an off white powder and the other a cloudy blue-gray liquid. 

 

“Can you open the door big guy?” She asked LH. He cast a quick glance over the empty jars at her feet and smiled. Taking both in one enormous hand he ripped the subways door off its hinges. The wind made a whistling sound as it passed over them. Tracker’s short hair whipped about her face. LH poured the powder into the second jar, crammed on the lid and threw it as far as he could. She thought she heard a wet cry of the monster as it knocked into it before the entire place was engulfed in flame. 

 

The light was blinding and hot but it only lasted a moment. The rolling explosion sounded for a few moments longer, turned into the rush of water before finally disappearing as they speed away faster than the incoming river could catch up. 

 

They disembarked quickly, not making much of stealth as they burst out of the bottom of the parking garage. Rain still fell, so thick it hid most of the city as they ran past and into the first underground entrance they could find. Tracker wished she had more than her shirt. It was long enough to cover her but trudging through the sewers without pants was not her idea of a good time. 

 

LH still held Don in one arm like a child, Raph bent over him fussing till Don meekly patted his cheek and told him to go away. They were nearly there when someone began to laugh. It might have been Casey hollering or Tracker or any one of the guys, LH was still too injured to do much talking. But the laughter carried enough for April to apparently hear it. They saw her bright red hair poke around the lair entrance. She smiled, wide and bright enough to see in the dark. She launched herself towards the guys. Leo got the first hug for the simple reason he was closest. Then, without letting go of the older turtle’s head, Caesy was gathered up. Raph was pulled in by his shell. LH put his massive hand on his friends and she let go enough to pull Don’s face to her chest. 

“I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Ow, a bit sore April.” He said, muffled by her shirt. 

 

“Oh, sorry.” She lightened her grip but did not let go. Leo stood next to her and Raph next to him. Tracker _ felt  _ her husband line up the shot a second before he instigated it. Sweeping her up he ran at the group pulling them all into LH’s scaly stomach in an enormous tackle hug. 

 

“Hey, Mike! Ow cut it out.” Raph complained. 

Leatherhead rumbled with a chuckle in his belly, still too painful to vocalise.

 

“It sounds as if the mission was successful. Come inside and tell an old rat what happened. We worried when we could no longer contact you.” Splinter said from just inside the lair. Mikey let up on his hugs-all-around campin and let them go. Well, most of them. He still held Tracker pinned against his plastron. Despite the pain in her ribs she was honestly glad of that. Her legs felt like noodles, she wasn’t sure if she could walk to their room. 

 

“Pants.” She whispered in her husband's earhole. They passed the mob of explanations and injury rehabilitation that was pooling in the kitchen and made it back to the room .

 

He swept his arm over the beg clearing everything onto the floor and set her on it, sliding down on the ground next to it. 

 

“We made it.” She heaved. 

 

“We made it. You scared me for a second angle-cake. You gonna be ok?”

 

“Ya, no. I’m sorry I just. Freaked out.” She pulled herself to the edge of the bed and planted a kiss on his dumb bald head. “Love you.”

 

He looked up and pushed his lips. Kissing upsidedown was one of his favorite things and he deserved a nice long one. ‘Like in the movies’ 

 

“Love you too,  _ Amara _ .” They stayed like that for longer than they probably should have. They were both injured and needed at least to be looked over. She felt greedy hogging him all to herself. Mikey wanted to see his brother but she wasn’t sure she could handle the crowded lair just then. 

 

Leo’s voice sounded apologetic when he knocked on the door and instructed them to come out to have everthing looked at. She gritted her teeth and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a shirt she would normal call immodest, but at the moment she really didn’t care. 

 

It felt nice to realize that they wouldn’t care either. They emerged a minute later to Splinter tending the holes in LH’s snout. The big guy’s face looked like a mummy made of tape and gauze. Don was spread on the couch similarly covered in clean white bandages. April,  attempting to get Raph and Casey to sit still long enough for her to clean their smaller scraps. 

 

She gave it up and gestured for Tacker and Mikey to sit down instead. Tracker pressed a bag of frozen peas to her eye. That was going to leave a shinier darker than black shoe polish and she was already getting a headache. The happy noises of a full house were best enjoyed from under a thick blanket, in a dark room, behind a closed door. She wanted a nap.

 

“-then this idiot shouts goongala and starts whaling on it with a broken robot arm.” Raph poked Casey in the chest. “Yo, T! You want a cold one?”

 

“Please.” She expected to be tossed a N attyIce, Casey’s favorite.  The blue and silver can that looked like a discarded Mt. Dew flavor, containing beer that tasted like  soggy cardboard sounded like a serviceable alternative to sobriety at the moment. Instead Raph walked over and handed her a royal blue can with white writing she didn’t recognise. 

 

‘ KelSo Pilsner’ it read. He watched her a bit too closely as she popped it open with one hand and took a swig. Did he poison it or something? To her surprise It was crisp, sweet and very dry. Raph and Case made a point of drinking the worst and cheapest stuff they could find. It was almost a point of pride to them, but this was delicious. 

 

“This is really good.” She turned over the can and pulled the pea’s off her face. “-brewed in the bountiful borough of Brooklyn.” She read out loud off the back.

 

Raphael shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Don’t like looking at that screwed up face you make drink’en ours. So I picked up some real New York stuff before ya got here. Was gonna give it to you before but we never got time...” He looked relieved she liked it. It was just about the sweetest thing he had ever done for her and the Raph equivalent of a signed thank you card with little hearts drawn on it. 

 

She nodded, he nodded, and the masculine exchange of feelings was finished. April sat in front of her holding a cotton swab soaked in alcohol. Besides the ribs and a lot of bruises she was declared healthy in a few minutes and allowed to slink off to bed.

  
  


Mikey’s voice reached her from under the thick quilt. She awoke to the smell of pizza and Mikey’s bed. Tracker pulled the covers off her face and soaked it in. Just like the first time. She had been so determined to never come back. Five years later found her wanting to be a different person just so she could stay. If she wasn’t like this, if she could stay in one place for longer than a month or live in a city like New York without going crazy, then she could wake up like this every day. She could spend her life here.

 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up hunny-pup, just getting my pizza slicer.” 

She didn’t question why the pizza slicer was in his room. She felt a hundred times better. 

 

“How long was I out?” She asked sleep still caught in her throat. 

“About four hours. You want pizza? I got bacon and peanut butter.” Now that did sound amazing. 

“Be right out hun. I’m sorry I just disappeared. Couldn’t handle it all right then.”

“Awww, your voice is a little husky. Get it? Not everyone can be a social turtlefly like me. Kiss?” He leaned over the bed to kiss her. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and forcing him to lift her up off the bed. 

 

“Hey, Scruffy let me go. Ah!” He made a show of tripping around his room, Tracker dangling from his neck. She let go and slipped off. 

 

“Go on I’ll be right there.” Punctuated with a booty smack. 

He waved the pizza slicer at her and closed the door behind him. From the kitchen she could hear Donnie speaking. Likely explaining all the mysteries Tracker couldn't solve before. She should really go, she had questions. How he managed to crush the phone and why that bastard wanted him in the first place for starters.

 

So that had been Bishop. She pulled on her cargo pants and a shirt, running over the nights events in her mind. She felt disappointed they hadn't finished him. All this barely amounted to an inconveniences for the psycho. At least she  managed to collapse the tunnel. The structure was built under the water level of the river. She bet the whole place would flood and take months to pump out.  A spiteful smile shot across her face as she pulled a brush through her mousy-brown hair.

 

And what had he meant by Raphael's ‘activities?’ The voices from the kitchen changed from serious to joking as the smell of her Mikey’s homemade pizza filled the lair. She would think about it tomorrow. 

 

The door squeaked open. The lair was bright but her eyes would adjust. Her family sat around the table and kitchen island. Casey was still here but it looked like April left for work already. 

 

Mikey danced around in the same pink apron he had worn the first night she had spent in this place. The more things changed the more they stayed the same. Leo heard her approached and pushed out a chair for her to sit down next to Donnie. A few pizza boxes lay around the space, testament to the boys bottomless stomachs. They must have ordered, eaten it all before Mikey decided to cook some himself. 

 

Tracker wasn’t complaining. Mikelangelo pulled a piping hot bacon pizza out of the oven and smeared a layer of peanut butter across the chease before slicing it and plating it in front of them with a flourish, along with another can of Raph’s gift beer. Pizza and beer, holy communion, she felt unworthy. 

 

“Hey, Tracker?” She turned to Don, mid chew and tried to swallow the glob of peanut butter before answering. 

 

“Whas ap Don?” It was stuck to the top of her mouth. Wasn’t there a word for that?

He took a deep breath and spoke like it was painful to him. “N-never mind. Thank you is all.”

 

“Just glad to have you back. Brother.”

He smiled in a strange sad way. She decided he was probably exhausted from the night’s events. He would recover quickly, surrounded by family. 

 

She pulled Mikey’s aprion as he walked past and he nuzzled the top of her head. Her strange wonderful family, she wished she could stay forever. That night the rain washed the city clean and she slept next to her husband, listening to the water sound, smooth and swift. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Three days later: Epilogue

Her plain back Brazil left in 24 hours. Tracker should have been packing. Instead, she sat at Donatello's lab desk tapping her foot. Something had been gnawing on him since he knocked on the door and asked her to follow. She hoped he would spit it out soon.

“Donnie.” She finally barked, stopping his pacing. “Tell me what's wrong.”

He sat down, stood up, took a few steps before stopping himself and turning to Tracker. When he finally began his words came out like a tidal wave. 

“It’s about Bishop. When he was interrogating me he let something slip. He said he used to hunt ‘abominations’ even before he was turned into, whatever he is now. He was trying to scare me into talking and he said something. Umm…” He paused remembering the exact wording. “ ‘I even destroyed the largest lycanthrope populating in North America. Burned them out, I could do the same to you, freaks.’ “ 

Don held Tracker’s gaze. She realized her claws had morphed in and buried an inch into the table top. She pulled them out and assessed the damage. 

“Oh.“   
“I should have told you right away.”   
“No, thank you.” She was staring at her hands. Half-heartedly attempting to pull back her claws. They didn’t seem to be moving. 

“If you want to try to take him down, we're behind you. Sensei taught us to never seek after revenge, but he will just keep hurting people. I already talked to Leo, he agrees.” 

“Does Mikey know?”   
“Not yet.”

“Don, I won't pull him into this. I have to go to London. I should talk to Fang.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Self-indulgent little one-shot I wrote when I got stuck on a story I was writing about werewolves. It grew way out of control but I love it. Hopefully you get a kick out of it too.)


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